


Andraste's Fire, Inquisitor's Light

by thejeeperswife



Series: The Fire In Your Eyes [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Blood Mage no Seisen | Dragon Age: Dawn of the Seeker, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Betrayal, Depression, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Family Issues, Family Secrets, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Insanity, Kindred Spirits, Lyrium Addiction, Lyrium Withdrawal, M/M, Mental Anguish, Overcoming Struggles, Past Abuse, Personal Demons, Physical Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Repressed Memories, Sad with a Happy Ending, Scars, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Suspense, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2018-12-14 16:25:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 26
Words: 120,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11786964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thejeeperswife/pseuds/thejeeperswife
Summary: After losing Haven and fleeing into the Frostback Mountains, the Inquisition discovers it needs a new home and direction, establishing itself at Skyhold.  The advisors determine they need a permanent leader to guide the faithful against Corypheus, and Evie is asked to be Inquisitor.  The mage accepts, shedding her past chains and declaring a new chapter in her life to bring forth change.However, Evie quickly discovers she has traded one pair of shackles for another, overwhelmed by both her divine role as the Herald of Andraste and the emotional and physical demands of being the Inquisitor.  Pressures from the Trevelyans, Orlesians, and  Templars began burying the fire mage.  Her Inner Circle invades her personal life.  Her only saving grace is Cullen, who makes it his duty to be her protector, despite his own past creeping throughout Skyhold.  The commander recognizes quickly the woman he has grown to care about is falling through very thin ice.  Evie must choose between what is expected of her titles and what brings her happiness.Story Theme Song:  “Monster” by StarsetConfused?  Read Part 1 "A Safe Haven" to catch up!





	1. Into Darkness, Unafraid

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter Song: "Castle of Glass" by Linkin Park
> 
> Story utilizes existing events and conversations from Dragon Age: Inquisition, all owned by Bioware and EA.
> 
> Don't know what is going on? Check out Part 1 "A Safe Haven" of this series, "The Fire In Your Eyes."
> 
> Thank you for the kudos, views, and comments! I love this series and you all keep me writing!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confused about what is happening? Read Part 1: "A Safe Haven" of the "The Fire In Your Eyes" Saga!
> 
> Chapter Song: "Castle of Glass" by Linkin Park (RIP Chester...)
> 
> I like to give "theme" songs to my writing, so some chapters have music that inspired me while I wrote. If you have a song that might fit with the narrative, please comment! I love listening to new music I didn't know before.
> 
> Story utilizes existing events and conversations from Dragon Age: Inquisition, all owned by Bioware and EA

Leliana was pleasantly surprised by Cassandra’s suggestion.  The spymaster had been considering the choice for a while, but she knew tensions were high between the advisors.  She knew when to pick her battles, and that was not one they needed then.  There was barely a consensus between the advisors and the Herald regarding alliancing with the templars or mages.  The Herald was not the same after her experience in the alternative future, barely able to look at the red head without asking if she was well.  The mage was paranoid about sealing the Breach, fearing the worst.

Then the Herald survived Haven, although barely.

That was the final act that pushed the rogue over the line.

What flabbergasted Leliana was the commander’s opposition.  Out of any of the advisors, she believed the man would be praising their proposal.  Instead, he paced continuously back and forth in the empty room at the back of the castle beside the overgrown gardens.  Cullen’s behavior was stranding between panic and anger.  He kept rubbing his neck, shaking his head and grimacing.

“Absolutely not!”  He snapped every so often.

“Cullen, the Inquisition needs this.”  Cassandra called, her mouth gaping at his outrageous expression.  “It only makes sense.  You know it.  I know it.  All of us know it.”  The seeker pointed to the other people in the room.

Josephine held her writing tablet close to her chest.  She had blown out the candle before it caught her hair on fire, shrouding her in darkness.  She watched everyone closely, keeping her thoughts inward.  Leliana saw that look before, specifically after the ambassador realized her silliness to pursue the templars.  The ambassador told her friend when they all arrived back from Redcliffe she felt ashamed that she suggested leaving children to such a fate.  She was thankful the Herald convinced them all for their error and fixed the problem.  That was the first time the Antivan woman mentioned her respect for the Herald.  When Cassandra approached Leliana, Josephine was present, thankful that the seeker stepped forward.  Josephine had reviewed all the facts and completely agreed.

So why was Cullen so against it?

Leliana studied the man as he stopped in his pacing and stared at the seeker.  “Have you all ever considered what _she_ might want?”

“I think we can all agree that we have always taken the Herald’s wellbeing into consideration, Commander.”  The rogue commented, tilting her head.

“Are you _sure_ about that, Leliana?” Cullen growled like a mabari.  “We all took that woman for granted, me most of all.  No, not anymore.  She gave everything for this, including her life.  Maker, she was dead.  You saw her, Cassandra.  I think we should leave her be and put no more pressure on her than what we and Andraste have already done.”

Cassandra sighed, rolling her eyes.  “Solas and Dorian brought her back.  The apostate explained hypothermia slowed her heart before she could bleed to death.  She’s alive, Commander.  The Void, she guided us to Skyhold!”

Cullen threw his hands in the air.  “Yes, by having another rider behind her on horseback.  It was not for that strange boy and his nonsense, she would have fallen off and broken her neck.  And you are forgetting the six days she was in a coma.  The woman can barely walk now!  Maker, she was septic for a while.  It has been these last two weeks since Haven, and the Maker could still take her.  All of you want to just push closer to the brink _again_!”

The spymaster’s hunch was coming more true every sentence Cullen spoke.  He could not hide it when he was angry or upset.  He insisted being at her bedside in the refugee camp during her coma, especially when the Orlesian first enchanter attended to her wounds.  One healer or adept mage was with the Herald around the clock while she was in that unconscious state.  After she awoke, attendance depended if she was awake or resting.  Almost everyone within the Inner Circle told the commander to rest or go do something instead acting like her guard mabari.  He only left or slept if the Herald dismissed him, but he would always leave his mantle with the mage while he was gone, not caring he froze to death in the mountain winds.  It seem Cullen’s loyalty extended beyond her health, advocating on her behalf to the three other advisors.

Josephine pushed herself off the stone wall beside the broken stain glass windows.  “We can all agree the Herald’s health is our top priority, Commander!”  The ambassador rarely rose her voice.  Apparently, Cullen’s irrationality dispelled her polite tolerance at the moment.

“That’s another thing!”  Cullen yelled, pointing upwards.  “She hates that title ‘Herald of Andraste.’  Now, you want to add another.”

“Do you think she would not be a good leader?” Cassandra shouted at the man.  Now, the seeker’s temper climbed.  Leliana remained quiet, wishing to watch the situation unfold before breaking up a fight. 

“No, that is not what I meant!”  Cullen exclaimed, placing his hands on his hips.  “Quite the contrary.  She is exactly what the Inquisition’s needs.  Look at us now, shouting at each other.  If she was here right now, she would put all of them back in our places before her own rage fueled the flames.  She would tell to all go back out there and do our jobs putting this crumbling castle together so we never repeat Haven again.”

“Then why are you so against her becoming Inquisitor!?” Cassandra hollered, slapping her hands against her leather pants.

Cullen sighed, pinching his nose.  Leliana saw the whole mess was giving him a migraine.  His irritability was only going to escalate unless they resolved it now.  The spymaster stepped forward.

“I know you are trying to protect Evie, Cullen.”  The rogue calmly explained, causing the commander to throw her a look.  His amber eyes dug into the rogue, daring her to protest against him.  “However, it is evident that the Inquisition cannot continue without a permanent leader.  We all ignored this problem for months, but now we have a solid foundation.  We need a leader to move forward.  Evie can do that.  Her survival has risen morale to new heights.  The faithful travel from all corners of Thedas for a chance to see her.  I believe you are wrong that she hates being called the Bride’s Herald.  Since she has awaken, she has speaking more clearly about her faith and divine role.  Cassandra, Josephine, and I have all seen a new resolve and determination in her that cannot be matched by anyone.  She is the most dedicated.  We believe she will guide the Inquisition to wonderful heights.”

Cullen grimaced, dropping his hand from his nose.  “Do you know anything about her?”

That gave Leliana some pause.  “Of course, I have been gathering information since-“

“-I mean, has she told any of you about herself?” Cullen interrupted.  “To the Void what you found or what someone else has said.  I am talking about hearing it from her lips.”

The cold room fell quiet.

“I don’t think she likes me.”

Three sets of eyes focused on the Antivan hugging her tablet.

“Why do you think that, Josephine?” Cassandra asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

“She is short with me.”  The ambassador whimpered, staring at the floor.  “Does not say much.  She answers my questions and then leaves.  She always grimaces when I advise about a merchant or an Orlesian courtier who wishes to meet her.  She nearly trips over her feet to escape.  I garner the proper respect for her station, and she revolts, acting like she _hates_ her status and the nobility in general.”

“I never got that impression while she was in Ferelden.  She handled herself quite well with Arl Teagan and King Alistair.” Cassandra noted, thinking about their dinner last month.

Cullen was chuckling now, shaking his head.  “Also remember Fereldan nobles are quite the opposite of Orlesian courtiers, specifically the king.  But that is also my point.  You never asked her why that might be?”

Josephine shook her head no.  “That is inappropriate.”

“We all know Evie is not one for manners, Josie.”  Leliana smirked.  “Remember when you went out of your way to make sure she was not present for that duchess’ tea party.”

Josephine covered her eyes with her hand.  “Maker, that would have been disastrous.”

“I can also point out how she and Cassandra don’t get along.”  Cullen pointed at the seeker.

“And I plan to discuss it with her.” Cassandra huffed, step forward.  “I will not live with regrets.  I am a woman of action.  That is why _when_ we all agree to make her Inquisitor, I will approach her.”

Cullen burst out laughing.  “You?  Do you want to be set on fire?!”

“You give her little credit.” Cassandra snapped.  That made the commander stop his hilarity.

“You have made your point, Commander.” Leliana began, lifting her hand before he could speak.  “It just shows we need to be more open with her.  In the last week, the Herald has been more receptive to personal conversation.  That is why I believe her discussion with Cassandra could be quite healthy and successful.  Possibly, she will confide in us and be willing to discuss her past, such as her sealed file.”

“You still have not found a way to access it?” Cassandra quizzed, surprised by the spymaster unsuccessfulness.

“No,” The rogue purred.  “But you haven’t helpful either.  I told you to befriend her at the beginning, and we are farther away than ever.”

“That’s my point.” Cullen snapped, running his gloved hand through his blond hair.  “Leliana, you are just looking for information, explanations.  She is the most mistrusting person I know.  She is scared of you, waiting for you to blackmail her.  How about you treat her like she is a person.  We have just gone around in circles…” The commander started pacing again.

“You are not innocent either, Cullen.” Leliana’s voice was low and stern.

All three people first stared at the red head, then the blond man frozen in his tracks.  The commander dropped his hand from his neck, hanging his head.  A few curls dropped from his styling.  He took a deep breath, held it for a few moments, and then finally released it.

“I know.”  He whispered.  “However, I plan to clear the air about everything.  Maybe that is why I am so resistant about naming her Inquisitor.  There is too many hanging issues around what happened, keeping her…me…from moving forward.”

“If we agree to be honest with her, will you support electing her Inquisitor?” Cassandra’s tone was warm and inviting. 

The man leaned against stone wall on his right pauldron.  He knocked his head against the stone a few times, trying to force his mind to work.  With one last _thud_ , he sighed.  “Yes.  I will at least let her rest before saying everything.  Most of what happened with…me will put a great deal of weight on her shoulders.  I think what you have to say, Cassandra, will benefit her greatly.  Josephine, please ask her directly.  That guessing and wondering is do nothing for you or her.  Leliana, don’t try to gain information from her.  _Talk_ to her and listen like she is Astrid.”

Leliana held her breath with that statement.  The spymaster broke her eye contact with the former templar, tucking her shoulders inward.  Evie was nothing like her dear friend, wherever she might be.  As much as Leliana wanted to search for the Hero Queen of Ferelden, she promised Astrid to respect her privacy.  The last time they spoke was by letter six years ago.  The Hero requested a potential secure and safe location for an unforeseen amount of time.  It had to be a place _no one_ would go.  The rogue arranged for an old villa overgrown, but hospitable in the Emerald Graves.  Months passed where Leliana struggled to go and see her friend.  After a year, she could not stand it, went to the villa, and found it bare.  Only a few rooms seemed used out of the whole space.  The only small bits of furniture laid in the used rooms.  A letter laid on a table covered in dust and dried leaves.  A single dried Andraste’s Grace laid beside it, Astrid’s calling card and Leliana’s favorite flower.  It simply said thank you to her friend and goodbye forever.

Astrid was gone, and Alistair has kept her disappearance silent for all those years.

Yet, the commander wanted the rogue to speak and act to the Herald like her friend.  Her friend who left her and could not trust her with her burden.  Something must keep her away.  Leliana could help her, but…

The spymaster shielded her ice blue eyes, pressing her gloved hand against her forehead.

“I think we can all agree to that, Cullen.” Josephine spoke.  Leliana knew the ambassador saw Leliana’s pain, but she did not care at the moment.  Astrid blinded her thoughts.

“Alright.”  He relented.  Leliana heard the dripping concern in his rough tone.  “Cassandra, go talk to her.”  As everyone slowly moved towards the tall, broken double doors, the man spoke again.  “But if she responses negatively to anything, by the Maker…”

The commander did not need to finish his sentence.  They all knew what he meant.

 

* * *

 

 

Evie could not stop rubbing her abdomen, irritating the bandages soaked in herbal oils and crushed leaves.  Her continuous circles over her left side agitated her healing right arm, draped in a sling.  Her silver thimble sat on her right index finger, being twisted on the tip with her thumb.  Solas commented when examining her a week ago, she need to leave her staff arm alone for a while.  He and Dorian forbid her from doing anything for at least a month.  They stated she had no idea how close to the brink she was.

The mage knew she died for a few moments.

The heavens were dark and cold.  There was no light, no Andraste, and no Maker.  In those brief moments, she believed Corypheus.  The Black City was empty, the Maker’s throne was bare.

Then she heard those majestic words.

_"I love the fire in your eyes.”_

Warmth overcame her soul as she beamed happily, seeing the darkness shift to a soft orange light.  Her being fell again through the Veil back into her body, although she remained dreaming in the Fade for a while.  She wandered the strange place until her body could house her mind and soul again.

The first thing Evie saw when she opened her eyes was black and brown fur pressed against her chin and neck.  Lavender tea, sage, and campfire smoke filled her nostrils.  She could not tell if she was grinning physically, but she was mentally.  She glanced around at surroundings.  She noticed she was in an Inquisition canvas tent with a single light source to her left.  Once her eyes adjusted to the light, she held her breath.

He looked exhausted with his head down and his arms crossed over his chest.  Small sounds escaped with each breath, shifting his whole body up and down.  Evie attempted to keep her giggles to herself.  She was thoroughly bundled up on the cot and could not move her arms to silence the snickers.  The mage pressed her mouth to the fur mantle, tittering louder as the snores grew more intense.

By the time Cullen awoke, her whole body was vibrating from her excessive laughter.  Tears streamed down her bright green eyes from struggling to not awake him.

“Eve?” His husky voice called out into the tent.  He leaned forward in the wooden chair.

The mage barely caught her breath between chuckles.  “You snore!”

Cullen froze beside her, pinching his nose.  Through the happy tears she could see his cheeks shift three different shades of red.  “Maker’s breath, woman.”

Then Evie snorted.

The woman ceased chuckling, freezing in mid gasp.  She hated that aspect of her laughter.  Everyone always made fun of it, Rian especially.  She buried her face into the mantle to hide her embarrassment.

Now, it was the commander’s turn to burst out laughing.  It rumbled down in his chest, husky and rough like his character.  It was genuine and warmed Evie’s soul like a blazing furnace.  When she gained enough courage to look towards the man, he saw his cheeks were almost purple as he repeated shook his head.  Evie burst out laughing again, seeing how silly he looked.

By the time Cassandra opened the tent flip to see what was going on, both the Herald and the commander were rolling with laughter.  The seeker started to chuckle; the joyfulness as addicting as lyrium.  “Maker!  You’re awake!”  She called throughout the tent.

It took nearly a bell for everyone to stop running into her tent and crying out in happiness.  They sang, they bowed.  Thank goodness the commander noticed she was drifting back to sleep.  He hurried everyone out, barking orders like always.  As he neared the tent flap to leave that night, he whispered, “You stayed behind…You were-…I will not allow the events at Haven to happen again.  You have my word.”

Evie sighed, leaning back against the mound of pillows supporting her.  That was two weeks ago.  Since then, someone was always present, usually scolding her for something.  He would look in to check on her, nod and leave again.  He was always there when she awoke sweating or in pain, jumping to action.  When she awoke earlier today, she heard him snapping at that stupid messenger to go and check on the armory. 

The Inner Circle placed her in the gatehouse beside Skyhold’s main entrance.  It was the only place clean enough to avoid further infections and close enough to the hubbub outside so Evie could be “present.”  The mage attempted several times to run from her small quarters and check on the troops and refugees, but her comrades always found her.  She became so difficult at one point that Josephine threatened to tie her to the wooden bed.  Iron Bull ordered her to stop trying.  He was always going to find her.  Dorian hissed she was undoing his picturesque stitching and that it would scar if she continued.

Evie simply wanted to be sure she was alive and not in her very own blissful afterlife.  She reviewed and analyzed all her regrets constantly.  These people cared about her and meant well.  Philliam was right.  She could finally find peace and friendship among the Inquisition.

And it could all begin with the Nevarran standing at the doorway.

Cassandra leaned on her left arm against the door frame with her head slightly down.  For once, she did not wear her armor, just her quilted doublet with the seeker heraldic cloak over top.  She grinned devilishly, unsettling the mage.

“I was afraid I would have to sic Bull on you again.”  Cassandra groaned, stepping into the bridge gate house.

Evie shrugged, fighting her inner apprehension towards the seeker.  She twirled the silver thimble faster on her finger tip.  “The Qunari threatened to sit on me next time.  I worry it’ll give him some new sexual fancies.”

“No doubt.”  The seeker smirked again, shaking her head.  She approached a nearby chair the healers and her comrades utilized when they checked on her.  “May I join you for a few moments?”

Evie nodded, pulling her loose tunic over her bandages.  She swallowed, fearing the warrior saw her older scars and discolorations.  A part of Evie wanted to display each, pointing to them and saying what the seeker neglected to prevent all those years ago.  Forgiveness was going to bleed Evie’s tolerance dry.

“It relieves me that you are getting better, Evelyn.”  Cassandra stated, sitting down on the wooden chair.  She was just a few feet from Evie, causing the mage to tense.  Her tone was warm, and she was smiling.  Every nerve in Evie’s body prepared for the worst.  “Thedas knows about your heroism and miraculous recovery.  The Inquisition in on everyone’s lips.  Pilgrims arrive daily from every settlement in the region.  Skyhold is becoming a pilgrimage.”

“If word has reached the people, it reached Corypheus.”  Evie added, gritting her teeth.

The seeker nodded.  “We have the walls and numbers to put up a fight here, but this threat is far beyond the war we anticipated.  But, we now know what allowed you to stand against him, what drew him to you.”

Evie rolled her eyes, lifting her marked hand.  “He came for the Anchor, and now it’s unless to him, so he wants me dead.  The end.”

Cassandra’s dark red lips curled a little.  “Yes, the Anchor has power, but that’s not why you’re here.  Your decisions let us heal the sky.  Your determination brought us out of Haven.  You are that creature’s rival because of what _you_ did.  And we know it.  All of us.”

Evie huffed, breaking eye contact with the seeker.  “ _All_ of you.  Seeker, I know you hate my guts, so your assurance are only hurting whatever you want.”

Cassandra groaned, rolling her eyes.  “You think so little of me.”  She grumbled, then sighed, softening her tone again before her temper took over.  “I believe you are one of the finest woman in Thedas, and I have mistreated you greatly.”

Evie blinked a few times.  She dropped her thimble into her lap in shock.  “Uh, come again?”

“Back then…”  Cassandra scratched the top of her head.  “Back when I was ordered to investigate what happened to you, I assumed your family was waving their wealth and influence around over some mundane nonsense.  I see how wrong I was.  I will not ask what happened to you for I missed my chance to know, but I hope maybe one day you will speak about your experience.”

Evie pulled the blankets close to her body, trying to cover everything from view.  The warrior continued.  “I’ve learned these last four months you are nothing like I imagined.  You’re smart, driven, and very dedicated to fighting the chaotic darkness.  You were right in Redcliffe.  I have a lot to say about and to you.  Praise, awe, admiration.  I hope in time I can tell you all my thoughts.  I find it funny that the world is being saved by a woman again.  Andraste, the Hero of Ferelden, the Champion of Kirkwall, and now you…”

Evie chuckled.  “Every time I hear that comparison, I want to throw up.”

Cassandra giggled herself.  “It just shows women are truly better than men.”  She shrugged gleefully.

“Maker’s arse.”  Evie laughed a few times.  “Don’t let the commander and the other guys hear you.  Their egos are sensitive enough.  That would crush them!”

“Is that before or after you and I throw them on their asses.”

Evie continued to giggled, rubbing her left temple.  “I just heard you cuss.  Maker, I am in the heavens.  This is just crazy!”

Cassandra reached into her cloak.  Her right hand pulled out a piece of metal and laid it in Evie’s lap.  The thimble made a clicking sound against the other metal.  “Is it so crazy though?  You walked miles in a snowstorm with that in your gut.  _That_ is crazy…and amazing.”

Evie stared at the broken sword, rubbing her wound below her stomach.  “Not without cost though…” she whispered.  “Solas…he had to remove my left ovary and part of my intestines.  Nothing could reattach it.  I had waste floating around unchecked for hours.  Nearly killed me and still could.”

Cassandra studied the mage gripping her tattered body.  “I…I did not know.  Did you…want to be a mother?”  The seeker immediately winced at her own words.

Evie huffed, rolling her eyes.  “You know mages cannot keep any children.  Besides, no man would want this beaten body.”  The mage nearly purged thinking about Cullen rejecting her just on her scarred body alone.  The Inquisition’s women and some man always talked about the commander in the tavern and camps.  She was not pretty.  No one was attracted to her in a romantic way in her whole life.  If Dorian was out of her league, Cullen was not even within Thedas.

Cassandra chuckled, rolling her eyes.  “You both are helpless…”

Evie eyed her.  “Excuse me?”

The seeker waved her thought away.  “I came here to state I will not live with regrets, and I hope you may forgive me and allow us to move forward from our troubled pasts.”  She paused, struggling with her thoughts.  “I-I don’t know if you realize how similar we are.”

“Short temper, cannot be reasoned with once our minds are set, keeps pushing forward until we pass out…No, nothing alike.”  Evie sarcastically cooed.

“More than that…”  Cassandra sighed, rubbing the back of her head.  “You had brothers, right?  Templars…”

Evie stared at her lap, biting her lower lip.

Cassandra nodded, understanding the mage’s silence.  “I heard about your family’s difficulties.  They were…special to you.  I too had an older brother…Anthony.  He was a dragon hunter, what a Pentaghast could truly be.  Not like the fat and lazy ones who pay lip service to the Maker and care for idle pleasures and past glories.  I idolized him.  I wanted to hunt dragons as he did, even though our uncle forbade it.”

“What about your parents?”  Evie’s eyes remained focus on the thimble laying on top of cotton blanket covering her lap.  Her vision stared at the silver piece, thinking about Esme and what the object represented to the duo.  She feared she would cry if she looked at the seeker.

“They had the misfortune of taking the wrong side in the second attempt to overthrow King Markus.  The king executed them, but spared my brother and me since we were family, and children at the time.  Thus we were raised by my uncle, a Mortalitasi who preferred the company of his corpses to the living.”

Evie’s attention peaked, struggling to keep her eyes from looking at the warrior.  “Wait.  You were raised by a death mage?  As in necromancy?”

Cassandra sighed.  “Nevarrans don’t burn their dead, keeping them in special crypts.  I swear they spend more time honoring the dead than then do with the living relatives.  I will never understand it.”

“I-I’m sorry for your loss.” 

The seeker’s hard exterior was starting to make sense now.  No parents, a necromancer uncle, and from her tone about her brother…  “No matter.  It was a long time ago.”  Cassandra hesitated.  “Anthony promised to train me in secret.  I imagined us hunting together one day, brother and sister vanquishing the beasts of old.  And then he died on me.”

“Shit, Cassandra…” Evie’s left eye flicked towards the seeker, seeing the deep sorrow in her eyes.  “How did you become a seeker then?”

“A group of apostates wanted dragon blood, and wanted Anthony to get it for them.  He refused….and they killed him for it…in front of me.”

Rian immediately came to mind.  Fucking blood mages always taking from people who did not deserve it.  Yet, if Evie was thankful for one thing, it was that she did not witness Rian or Esme’s deaths.  It was always a fear of hers, especially if something happened inside the Circle.  Rian was a knight-lieutenant and would be first to respond to an emergency.  Yet, he died outside the Circle, out of her reach and care.

“I begged the Chantry to let me become a templar.  Instead, they sent me to the seekers.  It took many years to let go of my drive for vengeance.”

Her confession at the end drew Evie’s bright green eyes to study the woman before her.  The warrior rarely allowed her emotions to show.  Seekers trained to purge their emotions to gain their abilities.  However, they were not like the tranquil.  They were attached humans with human emotions.  Cassandra’s whole behavior demonstrated she still struggled with her painful experiences.

“Is that…” Evie bit her lower lip searching for the proper words.  She could not hide behind her sarcasm or multiple personas. Her heart related fully to Cassandra’s burdens.  Rian did the same for a long time until Evie’s magic manifested.  “Is that why you blame all mages for the actions of a few apostates?”

“I was young.”  Cassandra’s dark expresso eyes met Evie’s astonished gaze.  “Magic was frightening.  It all seemed pointless.  Took a persistent mage to show me forgiveness and that not all mages were evil.  Alas, he…died at the Conclave…I sometimes wonder how different my life would be if Anthony was still alive.  Would I be a dragon hunter?  Married to some noble fool, a mother of three?  I cannot say.  I take solace in believing the Maker has a plan, but…He is not always kind.”

“ _That_ is the biggest understatement ever…” Evie commented, rolling her eyes.  “I can relate on many levels with your youth.  Everyone believes being a noble means you have an easy life.  In infancy, I was betrothed to Rian, my cousin and adopted brother.”

“Truly?” Cassandra snapped, her head kicking back.  “Why?”

“Everyone considered me a bastard even though I was simply born prematurely.  Furthermore, my father’s second marriage was the biggest scandal in Ostwick.  Rian was to inherit the house, no matter if Esme was born or not.  Rian’s father was the first-born son and my father received the bannon when his brother was murdered by apostates, blood mages like Anthony.  My father agreed to pass the honor to Rian, but wanted to secure my inheritance and basically my life.  It is not _uncommon_ for first cousins to marry.  It wasn’t a big deal…Yet, Rian was twelve years my senior.  He was my big templar brother and always protected me.  When my magic manifested, I was excited because I was going to be with Rian forever.  I did not understand the consequences.  I still thought we would marry.  I lost my whole gilded life with a simple fireball during a garden tea party.”

“Is that why you rarely speak of your family?” Cassandra asked.  Her voice was curious and drawn to Evie’s story.

Evie rolled her eyes.  “That is one of many fucked up things about the Trevelyans, even just within the immediate family.  I don’t blame you for thinking my family was blackmailing the Divine to do something.  Father was, to my knowledge.  I don’t know…many details from then…”  Evie gripped her stomach again. 

Was Evie going to tell her?  The seeker stated she could say one day, but it just made sense now.  The mage held this secret and anguish tightly for so long.  Cassandra genuinely wanted to smooth out everything.  It just made sense to get it out of the way.

After a few moments of Evie fisting the cotton blankets and squirming in bed, she let out a deep sigh.  “Do you know why I was at the Conclave?”

Cassandra shook her head.  “Justinia never told me, probably because I might have explode at the news.”

Evie took a deep breath.  “I am telling you this because…we are connected like a twisted, hideous spider web…one way or another…”  Evie’s stomach tightened as the dark corner of her mind overpowered her.  “The Divine…she was going to let me see my file.”

Cassandra blinked.  “Your file?”

Evie nodded.  “I wrote her repeatedly throughout the years, explaining my case and how Divine Beatrix brokered a deal that not even my father knows the full details.  Divine Justinia was going to open my file if I spoke about my personal experience at the Conclave.  She stated I had the strongest reason to…hate everyone there.  Yet, I could unify both sides.  Bring peace.  It felt like blackmail, and I wasn’t sure if it was a trap.  But…I could not pass up the opportunity.  I dropped everything and took off for Haven.”

“You mean…”  Cassandra whispered, leaning forward.  “… _you_ don’t even know?”

Evie shook her head.  “You know how I hated that I could not remember what happened at the Conclave, why I couldn’t relax thinking I caused the explosion?”

The seeker nodded.

“My file is the only other moment I don’t remember.  Only been told little things…”  Evie lifted her left tunic arm sleeve.  She showed the seeker the discolorations and burned scar tissue.  “But the evidence is all over my body…”

“May Andraste guide us all…”  The warrior whimpered, touching her hand to her lips.  “Evelyn…”

“Help me, Seeker…”  Evie whimpered as she squeezed her eyes close.  “Leliana stated when this mess started you all could help _me_.  I am selfish, initially using the Inquisition as a means to an end.  Then, seeing the atrocities in the Hinterlands, I put my own struggles aside and vowed to complete what Justinia believed I could do at the Conclave.  She personally wrote to me, hid my involvement.  I promised her.  I received this boon from Andraste.  If my past, my scars were the reason why I was at the Conclave and could save Thedas, then damn it, I will.  I…just ask… help know _what_ created these scars that brought me here…”

“Of course…”  Cassandra nodded repeatedly, her mouth gaping.  She rubbed the braided part of her pixie hair.  “I am a fool.  I am such a-“

“We’re moving forward, right?”  Evie poked her shoulder, grinning. 

The seeker met her gaze, curling her lips.  “Yes, absolutely.”

Evie crossed her left arm over chest, supporting her ailed right arm.  “So, why _are_ you here…?”  The mage eyed the woman with one perked eyebrow.

Cassandra shook her head, surprised by the sudden shift of emotions.  “I…Nothing-“

“Druffalo shit.”  Evie snapped, tilting her head.  “You might have not expected to spill your guts, but you were leading to something.  Come on…”

“It…It is nothing, Evelyn, especially after-“  Cassandra jumped from her seat, almost running for the door.

Evie telekinetically closed the gate house door, causing the seeker to freeze.  “Spill it.”

Cassandra huffed.  “No.”

“Moving forward, Seeker…”  Evie cooed, waging her finger at the frustrated woman.

The seeker grimaced.  “Stop using my words, Trevelyan…”  Cassandra sighed and rubbed the back of her head, pacing around a little.  “It is too much to ask you…”

“I already died once.” Evie shrugged.  “What could be more-“

“-Lead the Inquisition!”  She bluntly yelled, immediately covering her lips with both hands.

Evie blinked a few times, looking around the room, wishing something more important would show up to shove this aside.  Corypheus showing up and doing the Remigold?  She listened outside.  Nope, nothing came up.  Evie allowed her mind to go blank.  She shrugged.  “Sod it.  Sure.  Why the fuck not.”

Cassandra threw her head back.  “Just like that?”

“I’m not the one who just offered a mage to lead the devout.  It’s ironic since Andraste, you know, kind of discouraged all that.”

Cassandra sighed, crossing her arms over her chest.  “Times are changing.  Perhaps this what the Maker intended.  There would be no Inquisition without you.  You _died_ for everyone here.  We all agreed that you have already been leading us.  It just took us all so long to stop being so daft!”

There a rough accent behind the Nevarran’s words, specifically _daft_ , but Evie waved off her curiosity.  “You advisors _agreed_?  Without me snapping at you?  I am dead…”  Evie whimpered, rubbing her temple again.

“I won’t lie.  There was shouting, but we all agree you are exactly what we need.”  Cassandra explained, sitting back down in the chair.  “We all dedicate our lives to serve you, Evie.”

Evie nodded, sighing heavily.  Her mind was blank still.  Words just fell out of her mouth.  “Alright.  I guess it is time for everyone to see a mage standing for what’s right.  I will stand with everyone, not _over_ them though.”

Cassandra grimaced, studying the mage closely.  “Don’t make me regret this.”

Evie grinned.  “Why, Seeker, I wouldn’t dream pissing you off every second.  I plan on having your thick accent groaning in my ear the whole way.”

Cassandra beamed, realizing what the woman was stating.  “Truly?”

“I need someone to keep me grounded.”  Evie stared at the ceiling.  “I want you as my second.  I want you to be my conscience in this sodding mess.”

Cassandra eyed her again.  “I won’t go to noble meetings for you.”

Evie snapped her fingers, meaning the seeker’s glare.  “Shit…fifty-fifty?”

Cassandra waved her right hand, waltzing towards the door.  “Goodbye, _Inquisitor_ …”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like what you're reading? Leave me a comment and/or kudos. I love the feedback and responding to you all!
> 
> Anyone have any theories of what is in Evie's sealed file? It will be coming up more and more during her war against Corypheus.


	2. Hide and Seek

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song: "Gold Dust Woman" by Fleetwood Mac
> 
> Story utilizes existing events and conversations from Dragon Age: Inquisition, all owned by Bioware and EA.
> 
> So, I might change my posting schedule again. I am more comfortable with Monday & Friday instead of Tuesday & Thursday. Gives me more time between posts to do more with the story and IRL. Thoughts? Which do you all prefer?

Cullen enjoyed his new space.  It was centrally located on the ramparts, easily accessible to the on-duty guards.  Several staircases led directly to his office, meaning runners and messengers could reach him quickly.  Most of all, several major rooms separated him from the Orlesian nobles dying to make his acquaintance.  The courtiers outnumbered his men and him five to one, or that is what it felt like.  Since Evie’s acceptance gathering a few days ago, they flooded Skyhold like a plague of locust.  If the commander was still utilizing that table in the courtyard, he would be drowning in them.

Knowing this, the commander was not very surprised when he felt a rush of magic reaching his main door connected to the atrium.  A wave of wind hit the seated man as the reinforced door flung open.  Cullen lifted his head from a requisition to see the Inquisitor panting and panicking, looking every direction. 

“I’m not here!”  Evie hollered.  Her eyes scanned the room hastily.  Her attention fixated on the ladder beside the door.  Before Cullen could say a word, she slammed the door shut, jumped on the ladder and started to climb.

“Inquis-“ Cullen called, jumping to his feet, but she already disappeared into the loft.

Right then, a knock rattled the main door.  The commander shook his confusion away, focusing on the sudden presence on the other side of the door.  “Come in?”

Slowly, the wooden reinforced door opened.  Josephine peered in, glancing around.  “Good day, Commander…”  She opened the door wider, revealing a stack of papers on top of her writing tablet.  “May I ask…have you seen the Inquisitor?”

Cullen blinked a few times, trying to avoid his amber eyes shifting to the ladder.  “Uh…no.  I have not seen her since the ceremony.”

Josephine snapped her fingers, sighing.  The papers nearly tumbled to the floor.  Josephine was outwardly stressed and frustrated.  “Where could she be!?  For days, she has been hiding in the strangest places, preferring dilapidated holes than utilizing the nice space we established in the high north tower.  I thought it would be the best place because she prefers sleeping off the ground.  I’m been avoiding bringing her work so she can recuperate, but look at this stack, Cullen!  All these invitations!  She must respond to these donors!”

Cullen sighed, running his gloved hand through his hair.  “Let me see if I can find her.  She is still very ill, so she cannot have gone far.  Give me twenty-four bells, okay?”

Josephine, nodded, looking away.  “I do not know what to do…”  She turned towards the door, shifting through the parchment for anything needing immediate attention.

Cullen refused to move until the door slammed closed and he heard Josephine’s heels click against the rampart stones towards the atrium.  He walked around his makeshift temporary desk, and climbed the ladder.  “She’s gone…”  There was no response as Cullen reached the loft’s edge and pushed himself up.  He pivoted on his right foot once reaching the landing, freezing at the sight.

Evie was very pale, sweating as she gripped her stomach.  Her black-rimmed eyes hung half-open as she kept wincing.  “Thank…you…”

“Maker’s breath, Eve…”  Cullen whispered, rushing to the broken bed that she used to keep standing.  He edged the mage to the mattress, sitting her down carefully.  The little movement left her shaking and worn out.  “You should not fade-step in your condition!”

“I had…to get…away…”  Evie wheezed.  “She won’t leave me alone…”

Cullen sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.  He was afraid this would happen.  Josephine still had not talked to Evie about their strained relationship.  The ambassador must still feel uneasy talking to the Inquisitor, only causing Evie to push herself more to run and hide.  Just like the commander warned, they were putting unneeded burdens on a woman still so close to death.

Evie grimaced, looking around the room.  The bed was broken.  A tree grew out of the side of the tower.  All the furniture was rotten or shattered.  The mage’s bright green eyes focused on the ceiling.  “There is…a sodding hole…in your roof.”

Cullen smirked, shaking his head.  “Repairs are slowly coming along.  They follow level of importance:  foundation, the main bridge, fortress walls, the tavern….all you approved, by the way. Although, I don’t think the tavern should have been that high in priorities.”

“The men…well, me mostly…need a bloody drink…after Haven.” Evie muttered, trying to keep seated.  “Maybe…with a tavern…Iron Bull will…stop searching…for me.”

Cullen nodded, grinning more.  “Very true.  It’s good for morale.  Although, it will not be as uplifting as your acceptance speech.”

The mage rolled her eyes.  “What was I thinking…?  What were… _you all_ thinking?!”

“Maybe we all need a stiff drink?”  Cullen smirked as the Herald threw him a look.

Evie glanced back to the room.  “Why can’t…I…have…a loft?”  Her breaths were becoming more swallow.  She swayed with each sentence.

“Josephine just said you have your own space in the north part of the castle-“

“-They want to…put me…in another _fucking_ …tower!”  She grimaced, wincing as she rose her voice.

“Maker’s-“ Cullen squeezed his amber eyes shut, shaking his head.   Yet another undersight by the other advisors.  They did not consider her desires and possible apprehensions.  Of course, she interpreted her new living space as a tower or prison, not a gift reflective of her new position.  Evie was extremely mistrusting, especially when she was _told_ what to do.  Did those women not consider anything he said?!  “Eve, I am so sorry.  The advisors-“

“-It isn’t just them.” Evie huffed, rubbing her left temple.  “The templars…the ones from the Free Marches and those who condemned the Lord Seeker?  They are blaming me for not saving their brothers and sisters.  Cassandra notified me about rising tensions.  I told her it was ridiculous to name a mage a leader…”  Her rant wore her out, causing her to flop down on the broken bed, panting.

“I am handling this immediately…”  Cullen growled, his eyes silting as he considered all his opinions.  “I will be right-“

_Soft steady breaths._

Cullen blinked a few times, realizing the weak mage had passed out.  His face turned different colors of purple and red as he registered she was flopped over in _his_ temporary bed.  He swallowed, pulling at his stubble chin on what to do.  He did not want Evie waking up in that damn north tower alone.  She stated she wanted a loft like his, hopefully without a tree and all the vines.  Maybe she could remain until she rested and awoke on her own. 

The commander pushed any improper thoughts back as he pulled off Evie’s dirty boots.  Her clothes were soaked with sweat.  She must be fighting yet another infection.  As soon as she recovered from one, another appeared.  The first was in her right thigh, now they kept growing in her gut.  Josephine probably rushed to have the north tower repaired so she could rest.  The ambassador just never asked Evie, making the whole situation worse.

As Cullen placed the mage’s legs and feet onto the bed, Evie winced and shivered.  She resembled him when experiencing withdrawal symptoms.  The commander layered a few rough and torn blankets he had been using on top of her.  When he went to explode on the templars and the advisors, he would request new linens and ask Solas to check on her.  He wanted to place his mantle coat on the mage like before, but he wanted it to show his higher station to the knights.  If he looked like one of them, it might hinder the situation.  When he return, he would wrap her safely inside it. 

“I won’t let them kill you, Eve.”  He whispered, wiping her drenched bangs from her face.  Her auburn hair was knotted and unkempt.

They pushed her too far.

Cullen growled again, gripping his broadsword, before jumping through the trapdoor to his office.  He was on a mission.  Ladders were for calm, level-minded men.

He was a rabid mabari about to bark and bite at everyone in Skyhold.

Starting with those damn Orlesians.

 

* * *

 

The world was dark with a green hue around Evie.  Her armor was soaked through with sweat.  Her hair was down and disheveled.  Most of all, her abdomen felt like it had been stabbed a few dozen times.

The mage sighed, rolling her eyes.  “You know, I am starting to hate this landscape.”  She started to rub her temples.  The air smelled like sulfur and nug piss.

A demon was nearby.

“So, this is the Fade then.” She grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest.

Evie struggled to remember why she was asleep.  The last few weeks had been difficult.  She was always sick it seemed and hallucinated every time she closed her eyes.  Yet, the mage had not travelled to the Fade since she returned from her near death experience.  Her previous delusions were based on what she heard around her, mostly containing Cullen, as much as she did not want to admit it.

However, the Inquisitor had to be in the Fade.  There was a demon nearby, a strong one by the look of the environment.  It distorted the environment and bubbled burst of green light like fade rifts.  Evie started to walk forward, noticing fire in the distance.  As she neared, the burning bodies of kneeling people lined her path.

The mage winced, wondering if a demon had access her Chantry explosion dreams.  She reached the end of the path, seeing Cullen and Josephine standing at attention.  Leliana appeared from green dark mist behind the other advisors.

“Is this shape useful?”  The spymaster’s voice vibrated through Evie as she walked around the mage.  “Will it let me know you?”

“Nah.” Evie sighed, rolling her eyes.  “The rogue has wanted to ‘know’ me for months.  If I haven’t talked to her, why would I speak to you, demon?”

 The demonic Leliana pulled out a knife and walked behind Cullen.  “Everything tells me about you.  So will this:  watch.”

Cullen’s blood spattered the mage as the dagger dragged across his throat.  Evie stilled herself, trying to keep her mind blank.  However, her heart raced to the moment she stabbed the commander’s red templar creature.

“Ah…” the demon rogue cooed, tiling its head.  “You already know how that feels.  Interesting…”

Evie winced, remembering her emotions were as important as her thoughts, especially with such a powerful demon.  She could not allow her personal feelings towards the commander be tainted and used against her.  She equipped her stoic persona, the one her family crafted out of their wickedness.

Leliana disappeared as the demon took Josephine’s shape.  “You will be very interesting.  Do you know what the Inquisition can become?  You’ll see.  When I’m done, I will _be_ you.”

Evie laughed.  “Demon, if you emerge in the waking world, you will make me an abomination, and the templars would _love_ to cut me down.”

“I will be you, and you will be gone.”  The devilish Josephine giggled.  “They won’t even know it and will follow my lead…”

The mage just kept chuckling at the demon’s absurdness as it shifted into Cullen’s form.  “I am Envy, and I will know you!  Tell me, Inquisitor.  Tell me everything you are!”  Cullen stabbed Evie in her gut, causing the mage to stumble backwards. 

Blood sprayed from the wound as the demon’s proclamation rang in her ears.  Nug piss.  That should have told Evie everything.  She equated this type of demon to Patricia’s nasty pet nug.  Envy demons were rare, even in the Fade.  She only met one before in the Circle.  Ostwick suffered from a plague, and the mages were very susceptible.  She suffered with a high fever for a week.  It utilized her weakened state to attempt to copy her and manifest in the real world.  They do not require a host like other demons, just someone they could learn about and take their form.  That is what it meant before.

Evie reevaluated her surroundings as she held her painful stab wound.  _Was_ she in the Fade?  No, most likely not because the wound felt too real.  That meant wherever she was physically, the Envy demon was trying to take her form and control the Inquisition.

The demon kept pacing around Evie in Cullen’s form.  “Tell me what you think.  Tell me what you feel.  Tell me what you see.”

“You will not take my form, asshole!”  Evie hissed, spitting up blood.  “You will not ruin the Inquisition!”

“That is where you’re wrong…” Cullen grabbed her face and pulled her to him.  Its urine and sulfur smell burned her nostrils.  “The Elder One has plans, since you still live.  You ruined his glorious plan, but does not mean he’s given up!”  The demon kissed her, causing Evie to purge bile and blood all over the demon.  It simply laughed, stabbing her again in the abdomen.

“Just hearing that shit’s name makes me puke.”  The mage coughed blood as the demonic Cullen back away, twirling the bloody dagger in his hands.  It disappeared back into the darkness.  “Send Corypheus my regards because he will follow you back to the Void!”

The green darkness shifted into a castle dungeon.  It was not like future Redcliffe or Haven’s Chantry, but familiar.  Evie squeezed her eyes shut, realizing what it was doing.  “Skyhold…”  It was in Skyhold with her somewhere.  Evie could not figure out where her body was in the fortress.  Her mind was foggy from Envy’s constant bombardment against her stoic persona.  Her only choice was to keep moving and maybe find a way out.

The demon was very strong, more powerful than other demons she had encountered.  Somehow it accessed her mind or other people’s minds in Skyhold for information.  The first rooms reenacted her experience waking in the Chantry cellar prison to the seeker’s threats for causing the Conclave explosion.  Evie easily overcame that memory, remembering Cassandra revealed her true thoughts and inner self just days before.  The next memory were hearing the troops comparing the Inquisition’s strength with other kingdoms.  Although Evie disliked the order potentially becoming a military-focused organization, she remembered her secret encounter with Iron Bull.  The soldiers believed in the Herald and their cause, knowing Evie was a grounded individual not seeking prominence.  Envy was assessing her, just as she was doing, looking for a weakness.

What caused Evie to pause was seeing an ornate room larger than Haven’s Chantry on top of a tower.  The mage struggled, feeling like this was supposed to be her space, but it was not.  It felt like a prison, a gilded cage.  Josephine came to mind, and demon immediate caught the anguish inside.  It cackled at the new information.

“Envy is hurting you.  Mirrors on mirrors on memories.  A fact it can feel, but not fake.  I want to help.  You, not envy.”

Peace fell over Evie as the low vibrating gongs warmed her breaking soul.  “I know you…I’ve known you even before…Haven.”

The floppy hat boy appeared in front of the mage, sitting on the fancy bed.  “I’m Cole.  We’re inside you, Candle.  Or I am.  You’re always inside you.  It’s easy to hear, harder to be a part of what you’re hearing.  But I’m here, hearing, helping.  I hope. Envy hurt you, is hurting you.  I am trying to help.  Then I was here.”

“You’re a spying phantom who accidentally enters minds?”  Evie grinned, realizing why the boy always seemed familiar.  “You’re a spirit.”

The boy nodded.  “If it bothers you, I can make you forget….no, you need all of you right now to fight.  Maybe later?”

Evie rubbed her temples.  “I am forgetting too much already.  I need to know where my body is.”

“Blood.  Everywhere.  Thoughts are fast.  Outside, the red blade is still in you, chiming like bells.  It would be good if you got out.”

“So, Cole.  How do I get this demon shit out of my head faster?”

“It’s not shit.” The boy cooed.  “It’s Envy.”

Evie rubbed her temples again.  Of course spirits cannot take jokes and sarcasm.  “How do I evict it?  We didn’t encounter many Envy demons in the Circle.  The one that did find me lost its chance when one of our healers cast magic on me, making me strong enough to cut it down.  I don’t think that is going to happen now.”

“All of this is Envy:  people, places, power.  If you keep going, Envy stretches.  It takes strength to make more.  Being one person is hard.  Being many, too many, more and more, and Envy breaks down, you break out.”

Evie nodded, crossing her arms over her chest.  “So if we keep moving, we tired Envy into submission?  Yet, if don’t know where I am in the real world, I won’t be able to find _me_ again.”

The boy played with his fingers.  “I hope it helps.”  He disappeared, whispering one last time. “Ideas are loud here.  Make them louder.”

“That…” Evie sang, walking out of the bedroom revitalized.  “I can do.”

The demon continued its memory assault, specifically about Rodrick wanting to execute her.  Evie thought of a de-feathered bird, and the cleric transformed into a ridiculous peacock.  Evie snapped her fingers and set it ablaze.  Envy attempted to show her damning Mother Giselle for being like other clerics.  The mage imagined what the Crossroads looked like filled with people and Giselle and her sisters helping the refugees.  That banana baron who owned Haven appeared in a prison cell.  The soldier stated the Inquisitor was executing his young sons, hoping to force a confession of guilt from the noble.  The mage thought for a moment, still not convinced that the baron did not send that mage assassin.  Evie placed her Grand Uncle Philliam in the cell.  The bard broke the lock then stabbed the soldier, escorting the nobleman to safety. Grand Cleric Hevara appeared in another prison cell about to be executed for heresy.

Evie rolled her eyes.  “Seriously?  _I’m_ the heretic, you moron.”  She shouted in the vision.  The mage cold-clocked the soldier holding her, took his key, and opened the cell door.  “Fucking stupid demon…“

Evie ate those words in the next hallway.  Cullen stood in a prison cell arguing with that messenger who always annoyed the commander.  The former templar looked distressed and battered, much like in the refugee camp.

“The Inquisitor has questions, Commander.”  The messenger called through the bars.

“It is my turn to be branded a traitor for questioning what we’ve become.”  Cullen’s voice was stress and rough.  He kept rubbing his neck and pacing.  “I deserve it.  I let her use me, toy with me.  She used her false romantic passes to make me agree to anything!  Maker, she is worse than Meredith.  She used her position over me, wound me around her little finger.  I let the Inquisition become this butcher’s pit.”

Evie stepped back a few times, panting and shaking.  The image was right, but for the wrong reasons.  She was the Inquisitor now, meaning Cullen was her subordinate.  He was a templar, knights who rarely questioned orders.  Cullen did not question Knight-Commander Meredith until she threatened the Champion’s life.  He ignored all the mage abuse because he believed in his duty.  If Evie ordered him to act, he was going to do it no matter what.  He believed in her leadership. 

Furthermore, it is wrong for a commanding officer to fraternize with those under their leadership.  Evie saw those relationships always ending badly in the Circle.  Lydia even had a lover for a time, who was quite younger than she.  The first enchanter barely could put her own emotions aside when it was evident her lover was a suspected maleficar.  She herself was nearly branded for her connection with the woman.  All those romantic feelings Evie felt stirring in her chest and under her skin could never occur now.  It jeopardized her and his roles.  What if he rejected her?  Their relationship fell through?  It could compromise their whole mission.

Suddenly, Evie wished she told the seeker to shove it.  However, she did not regret her decision to lead the Inquisition.  She stood with the order because she believed in their purpose and goals.  She owed Divine Justinia and the Conclave justice.  Andraste blessed her with the Anchor, even if it was mistake.  She would kill Corypheus and all his minions, including Envy.

“It’s dark here, but isn’t real.”  Cole whispered throughout the vision.  “Think of sparks…”

“I am Andraste’s fire.  I will burn my foes.” Evie ignited a fireball in her right hand.  “I am the Inquisitor.  The light walking in the darkness unafraid.”  A green light orb formed in her marked hand.  She pushed both spheres together, then released the magic throughout the apparition.  Cullen and the messenger disappeared in a flash.

Evie’s realizations continued as she pushed through the next visions.  Foreign soldiers spoke about kingdoms falling throughout Thedas, specifically Orlais, but they included Nevarra, Antiva, the Free Marches, and even Tevinter.  Demons slaughtered the people.  Evie set the demons ablaze.  Corypheus threatened the world, and she will stop the magister. 

The demon only deepened her resolve to be a fair and just leader, one that showed people magic should not be feared.  The arcane arts could help the world, if the mage remained grounded.  When Evie returned to her body, she was going to have a very long discussion with the mage council.  If they wished a full alliance, they must work with the Inquisition and the people of Thedas.  Their freedom depended on the mages learning their responsibilities and weaknesses, just as Evie was ascertaining herself.

“You wish to be difficult?”  Envy huffed as the mage’s light outshined its images.  The green darkness was disappearing as Evie neared where she placed her head.  “What could you gain from this?”

“Keep climbing.” Cole called, sounding stronger by the minute.  “You’re almost there!”

Evie saw her doppelganger at a tower door high on Skyhold’s ramparts.  It rushed inside, looking frightened by her glowing flaming hands.  She followed, singing ‘Dawn Will Come’ throughout the beautiful castle, although not as delightful as Cullen’s voice.  Once inside, she saw its foot as it climbed a ladder.  Evie set the floor on fire, cutting off its escape route and followed.

The mage reached the loft and was immediately tackled to the broken bed, being stabbed repeatedly in the stomach.  Every time the dagger withdrew, it chimed loudly in Evie’s ears.  She stared up at the demon struggling to take her face.  The mage grabbed its neck and squeezed.

“Show me your face, Envy!”  Evie hollered.

“Unfair!”  It hollered, morphing in front of her.  “That thing kept you whole, kept you from giving your shape!”

“Cole just told me I had to stretch you thin.”  The mage laughed.  “Reminded me that thoughts are only as strong as their actions.  I thank you for showing me what I fight for!”  Evie punched the demon in the face, throwing both beings into the bright surrounding light.

 

* * *

 

“Maker’s breath!”  Cullen hollered at the top of the ladder.  Solas already stood in the loft, preparing an ice spike.

Evie spit up blood, holding her abdomen as a morphing templar stumbled backwards and into the stone wall.  The mage fell to her knees, gripping a dagger handle.  She pulled out the weapon, seeing the glowing red lyrium blade dripping with her blood.  Her bright green eyes stared at the templar before her as Envy struggled to keep a shape.

“Maker’s arse…” Evie groaned, holding her right hand on her seeping wound.  “Of course, you fucking took on _Burton_!  That filthy shit stain is the worst templar knight Thedas ever produced!”


	3. Kinship and Lyrium

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU ALL! "A Safe Haven" just hit 1000 views! I did a happy dance in my living room last night. My husband thought I was NUTS! Keep asking questions, the constructive criticism, and whatnot. I love the feedback!
> 
> Chapter Song: "Not Listening" by Papa Roach
> 
> I started a new Spotify list for this part's songs. If you haven't checked it out yet, "A Safe Haven"s song list is published on the streaming network. If you have a suggestion for a song, I would love to hear it!
> 
> Story utilizes existing events and conversations from Dragon Age: Inquisition, all owned by Bioware and EA.

Dispersing the Orlesian nobles was easy.

The commander’s demeanor caught everyone’s attention as he thundered through the great hall.  The sea of fluffy masks and stupidity automatically separated once looking at the tall, menacing man.  Cullen was not sure, but he believed he growled at one preposterous man in a pink and sky blue jumper who skipped towards him.  The noble idiot yipped in fright and quickly dashed away.

Cullen decided while rampaging through Skyhold to address the templars first.  He knew how to handle his once knighthood better than an ambassador who desperately wished to win the Inquisitor’s favor.  The discussion with Josephine could wait a little longer, better kept behind closed doors to avoid a scene.  The commander knew Evie could handle her own battles, but the mage could barely stand let alone snap everyone back to attention.  He would remain her guard until she was her healthy, short-tempered inferno self. 

The templar situation was quite complicated, especially following the events at Haven.  The knights struggled knowing their brothers and sisters were now chiming red monsters.  Some templars who followed Cullen from Kirkwall asked if the commander regretted not pushing the Inquisitor more to save the Order.  He always paused, searching for the right words for the thick warriors to realize what he and the other advisors concluded.  He continuously defended Evie, stating her choice was not based on her desire to protect her own.  He reminded the soldiers that a foreign force attempted to rewrite the past and control the future and enslaved men, women, and children. 

The commander ordered them to run drills or doubled their duties when whispers began that Evie made the wrong choice.  The troops should not questioned their superiors, though it was ironic really.  On one hand, if the Lord Seeker’s templars had doubted his leadership, they would not be those red lyrium freaks.  On the other hand, Cullen was telling the troops to never question orders, a fact instilled in templars as soon as they began training.  Where does one draw the line between a clear conscience and insubordination?  The commander struggled with that dilemma since Kirkwall.  Yet, he believed in Evie and her vision for the Inquisition.  He already established the framework to form new squadrons based on their new alliances and existing forces, waiting for her to heal before seeking her advice and approval.

How Cullen handled the Inquisition’s templars now could determine the Order’s future.  There were about three-hundred knights under their banner, a very small percentage compared with the Order actually size, numbering in the thousands.  The templars who were under their charge fell into three groups:  those who joined without following Lord Seeker Lucius, those who rebuked the Lord Seeker’s command, and neutral templars who had gathered in the Free Marches.  Each group adjusted differently to their new hosts. 

Those who freely joined the Inquisition settled into their new lives well, relieved again to have a solid base with a steady lyrium supply.  They were the original group that argued outside the Chantry all those months ago.  Following Evie’s speech and the assassination attempts, they adjusted their stance and found working with the Herald and the present mages was easier than believed.  Some templar squads enjoyed having a mage present, although they preferred a creationist over an elementalist or primalist.  Even the small number of knight-enchanters, such as Vivienne, were openly welcomed by these knights.  This templar group were the least offended by Evie’s alliance choice and not surprised by what happened to the Order.

The templars who rebuked the Lord Seeker continuously sighed in relief and thanked the Inquisition for the persistent encouragements.  Most were knight-recruits or recent knights, not veterans.  After Haven, they explained the Order was distributing a new form of lyrium that they believed would end the war.  No one questioned it since the officers tried the mixture first.  Under the Chantry, new lyrium formations were common as apostates resorted to higher, more forbidden magic. 

Ser Delrin Barris, the templar Evie met in Val Royeaux, was the first to wonder what was going on.  Once Cullen had a contact within the Order, the knight-templar accepted the Inquisition’s support and disseminated Cullen’s letter of encouragement to leave Therinfal Redoubt.  When the Chargers arrived, they discovered documents behind locked doors that stated the knight-vigilant was not present at the Conclave after all, instead died weeks before the Conclave in the castle’s prison.  Krem relayed that information to Barris, who finally convinced a small group to leave the Lord Seeker, numbering a little less than a hundred.  The Orlesian envoys that Josephine sent were found slaughtered by Leliana’s scouts last week long the blighted areas of southern Ferelden.  They never reached the fortress, most likely the red lyrium army’s first victims.  Josephine already struggled with the deceased nobles’ families about their needless and gory deaths.

The last group was the neutral templars, specifically from the Free Marches’ city-states, excluding Kirkwall.  The group was the least active in the war, coming to some sort of agreement with their charges to continue as always and to ignore the rebellion.  They were farthest away from the chaos, living in their own world where they still held mages’ chains.  Once the last group arrived to Skyhold just ten days ago, tensions escalated substantially.  There were scuffles with the alliance mages, questions if Evie was Cullen’s charge, and their demanding rights and honors within the Inquisition.  It was a discussion that required Evie the most, but they agreed she was too ill to defend herself and face these loud, though minority, voices.  As her second, Cassandra assumed charge of the situation.  As the Right Hand of the Divine and a seeker, although she left her order, she still held a deal of power over the knights.

Cullen ran his hand through his hair, realizing one last piece to this dedicate puzzle.  The commander knew who he saw at Haven beside Corypheus:  Raleigh Samson.  The lyrium-addict was once a fine templar and Cullen’s roommate when he first arrived in Kirkwall.  The previous knight-commander awarded him his own sun shield.  When Meredith took power, the knight assisted a mage by delivering letters to his lover outside the Gallows.  Meredith found out and expelled him.  Hawke vouched for the addict, stating he was someone needed in the Gallows, hoping to reinstate the man.  Cullen regrets allowing him near the Gallows and believing the Champion, knowing now Samson poisoned his own brothers-in-arms with red lyrium.  Hawke always convinced Cullen to trust in her judgement.  Anders was a prime example to never believe the apostate again.

The commander needed to expose his once connection and command over the magister’s red general.  To explain why Samson could have taken that course, Cullen would have to tell her about his personal decision to stop lyrium.  After all, Samson was a major reason why he refused the blue sweet essence.  The mage probably knew the shortcomings and adverse effects caused by withdraw since there were so many templars within her own family and the Trevelyans shipping the poison across the Waking Sea from Orzammar in an exclusive contract with the Chantry.  That confession tore at Cullen’s heart and soul though.  Evie evaluated everything, and as leader, she might find it a threat to the Inquisition, demanding him to resume consumption, although that was unlikely.  However, if she continuously asked him questions to calm her concerns, at one point it would lead to Kinloch Hold Circle.  Maker, what would she think of him after that?

Cassandra sat on an old stump reading near the armory as he approached.  Cullen rested his hands on his broadsword pommel, slowing his pace.  It was probably the warrior’s first break since Haven.  A part of him wanted to leave the seeker with her personal moment, but he continued, wishing for a quick resolution before the unneeded stress killed the Inquisitor.

“Seeker, a word?”  Cullen called, eying a group of templars leaning against the armory wall facing the upper courtyard.

The warrior looked up, snapping her book closed once her eyes reviewed the frustrated man.  “What happened, Commander?”  She called, standing. 

“The more appropriate question at the moment is what _hasn’t_ happened?”  He groaned, keeping his amber eyes fixated on a knight-captain who spoke to an unfamiliar Chantry sister nearby.

“Excuse me?”  The seeker exclaimed, crossing her arms over her quilted doublet.

“What is the status with the templars?”  He lowered his voice a little as the knight-captain glanced his direction.

“Slow.”  Cassandra groaned, sighing.  “The Free Marchers are very resistant.  They feel entitled and demand respect since they never joined the war.  Many come from multiple noble houses throughout the city-states, so egotistical and pampered.  They probably did not join their brothers because they did not want to break a nail.  I think I’ve witness Vivienne in worse states than these novice’s shiny, bright armor.”

“The situation has Evie messed up.”  The commander explained, rubbing his neck.  “She passed out in my tower after running from Josephine and the knights’ ridicule.  If she was healthy, I have no doubt she would resolved everything, but Cassandra…these infections.”

Cassandra nodded, lowering her head.  “I know.”

“Who is the most vocal opponent?”

The seeker threw him a look.  “You want to face the knight-captain?”  She nudged her chin towards the knight Cullen had been watching by the armory.

“Who is he?”

“Ser Burton, formerly of the Wycome Circle.”  Cassandra hissed, rolling her eyes.  “He’s been blasting insults about Evie since he arrived last week, criticizing everything she has done.  He knows a great deal about her actually, calling her a murderer and a prostitute’s daughter.  He even said such heinous comments to my face, stating I should have branded her when I had the chance.”

“So, he knows about her familial and Circle past?”  Cullen kept his temper at a simmer, although every bone in his body told him to go up and punch him.

“I don’t know.”  She waved her hand towards the knight.  “You are more than welcome speak with him.  I stopped after I nearly set his blood aflame.”

“What was your plan to address his rumors then?”

“Pray Evie got better faster so she and I could both knock him on his back.”  Cassandra grunted.  “If I dismiss him from Skyhold, he will most likely join the red templars, dragging his followers to their deaths.  I will not allow his rumors to continue, but he threatens the Inquisitor’s alliance with the mages.  I planned on waiting a few more days before making him an example, but I am relieved you’re here.”

“These templars are hard headed, but not beyond help.  We need to know what his intentions are.  Is he an addict searching a steady supply of lyrium?  Just afraid of becoming one of those abominations?”  Cullen spoke out loud, searching for an explanation.  “Come, let’s meet with him together since he seems so fixated on us.”

The knight-captain reacted immediately as both the seeker and commander walked his direction.  He wore his templar armor proudly with the helmet under his left arm and his right hand on his sword hilt.  His hair was blonde and he looked like he struggled to have just a bit of stubble like an adolescent boy.  He gave an air he was older than he actually was, but at most twenty-five.  However, his fellow templars quickly joined his side as Cullen and Cassandra advanced.  He definitely had their respect and support.

“Ser Burton,” Cassandra called, waving her head towards the commander.  “This is Commander Cullen Rutherford, head of the Inquisition’s forces.”

The blond knight started laughing, rolling his blue eyes at Cullen.  His followers joined the chorus of hysterics.  “ _This_ is the fabled knight-captain who put down Meredith?  Maker, you look like you stole a prostitute’s lingerie from the _Blooming Rose_.”  The knight pointed to Cullen’s mantle.  “I suppose that is why the false Herald likes it.  She would fit in well at that whore house.  Has she served you yet, Commander?”

Cullen’s blood boiled.  Cassandra was right.  This man held no love for the Inquisitor and did not care if his insults put him in prison.  “Watch your tongue, knight.  That is your commanding officer and Andraste’s Herald you speaking ill about.”  Cassandra snapped.

Ser Burton huffed.  “Her own father doesn’t believe she is blessed by the Maker’s Bride.  Uncle Ian might have ordered us to come here, but I am not going to give that bitch a time of day.”

_Uncle._   Now, it was clear.  This was not a simple slanderous knight of the Templar Order.  This is one of Evie’s cousins.  Cassandra threw Cullen a look, catching the relationship as well.  The seeker spoke first.  “You’re a Trevelyan?”

The knight-captain chuckled a few times.  “Damn straight!  You of all people, Seeker, should know my fine heritage.  Explains why you spoke improperly before.  I and my fellow cousin knights demand proper reverence.  We all hate that mage tainting our bloodline, but as her relations, we are more important than even you.”

Cullen stepped forward, his scarred lip twitching as he growled.  “You speak for equality when you slander your kin.  You might believe Bann Trevelyan’s influence governs the Inquisition, but you are quite wrong.  Evelyn Trevelyan dictates her own will and this organization.  As a mage and as a woman, she’s led the Inquisition wonderfully to this moment without her father’s stimulus, and she will continue to do so.  We all will stand with her and willingly give our lives to protect her and our cause.  If you or any Trevelyan have a problem with her leadership, the gate is right there.”  He pointed at the main gate below them.  The commander’s booming voice echoed against the stone walls surrounding them, causing everyone near by to look up and watch the confrontation.  “Let the bars smack you on the sodding ass on your way out!”

Burton rolled his eyes.  “She must be sucking your cock every night, commoner.  We’re not going anywhere, and my uncle will have you removed by the end of the week.”  The knight-captain walked away, laughing with his goons.

Cullen paced forward about to scream for guards, when Cassandra grabbed his arm.  “No, Cullen.  If Bann Trevelyan is involved, it will cause Evie and the Inquisition more problems.  Right now, we need to get the Inquisitor back on her feet.  We now know why the man has been so vocal.  We move around him to the bann, find out what he is attempting and kick them all back to the Free Marches.”

“How can a father treat his daughter so cruelly?”  Cullen groaned, rubbing his neck.  “What kind of noble is Bann Trevelyan?!”

“A man that can force a divine to her knees.”  Cassandra hissed.  “Let’s inform Leliana and Josephine what happened.  Josephine can contact House Trevelyan, while Leliana can shuffle through their spy network for weaknesses.”

“Their spy network!?” Cullen hollered.

“Like a said, the Trevelyans are not to be underestimated.  They wear many faces, most of which are hideous and manipulative.”

Cullen sighed, shaking his head.  “You go and talk to Josephine.  I will inform Leliana.  I need to have Solas evaluate Eve again.  First, the Inquisitor needs to survive these infections or all of our actions will be for not.  Meet in my tower in thirty minutes?”

“Agreed.”

 

* * *

 

“Maker’s breath!”

Cassandra’s expresso eyes gazed up the ladder, watching Cullen draw his broadsword.  Solas threw an ice spike.  A horrific shriek thundered through the tower as claws dragged the wooden floor and thundered towards the commander.  The seeker’s first thought nearly caused the warrior to purge.  That was a demon screaming.  Evie is an abomination.  The Inquisitor became possessed and a demon has taken her as a host.

“Maker’s arse…”

Relief flowed through Cassandra’s soul, knowing that hissing Free Marcher lilt anywhere.  Evie was still herself. 

“Of course, you fucking took on _Burton_!  That filthy shit stain is the worst templar knight Thedas ever produced!”

Burton?  That knight-captain and her cousin? A demon?!

Cassandra’s eyes kept fixated on the commander, witnessing a demon lung over his head and created a crater in the tower wall.  Its screams echoed throughout Skyhold’s courtyard as refugees and troops hollered and scrambled.

Leliana’s ice blue eyes glanced outside the main tower door.  The four-legged demon with a distorted face landed on the broken bridge, hollered again, and jumped to the castle’s lower levels.  She ran outside, the first to respond and spit orders to the troops.

Josephine gripped her writing tablet, shaking.  “Maker!  What is that!?”

Suddenly, Evie stumbled towards the trap door, tackling Solas.  She grabbed several potions on the apostate’s belt, drinking them one after another.  “It’s a fucking envy demon!”

Cassandra’s eyes widened.  An envy demon is one of the most dangerous demons with the ability to take a form and impersonate a person if given enough time.

Cullen held up Evie.  “You stay here.  I’ll gathered the templars.”

“Bullshit!” The mage hollered, drinking another healing potion.  “That asshole nearly took my face.  This is war!”  Cullen’s expression matched Cassandra:  terror and surprise.  An envy demon attempted to mimic the Inquisitor and nearly controlled the entire Inquisition.  Evie pivoted around Cullen and jumped down from the loft, almost landing on Cassandra.  She stumbled to her feet, still holding her bleeding abdomen.  “Someone get me a staff!  Cole, you here?!”

Suddenly, a flash of grey mist appeared on Cullen’s desk, causing Josephine to squeak in surprise.  The sickly boy’s hat covered his face as he held a staff.  “Here, Candle.  It’s frighten of you.”

“Good!”  Evie hollered, snatching the staff.  “We need to confine that thing.”

By then, Cullen jumped down the loft.  “We will need to break it first.  It has had time to entrench itself within the Free Marcher templars, so it is extremely strong.  It’s going to throw up a barrier to protect itself before taking on another’s face.”’

“Then let’s break its barrier and let me throw a firestorm over its disgusting body.”  Evie hissed, wincing and swaying to the point she had to grab Cole’s shoulder.  “We cannot let it escape.”

“You are in no condition to fight, Eve.”  Cullen advised, receiving a burning glare from the Inquisitor.  He refused to back down.

“Josephine is more than welcome to tie me to my bed after this, but I _will not_ sit this out.  Do you understand me, _Commander!?_ ”  Evie yelled, twirling her staff in her left hand.  Cassandra remembered the other arm was broken and still mending.  “Solas, gather all the Inner Circle and get me more rejuvenation potions.  I am not allowing this bastard to harm my people and this cause!”

Everyone scattered and carried out Evie’s orders.  Cullen still protested as he called for Ser Hugh and Ser Barris, but the mage ignored him, even flipping him off at one point.  Cassandra actually laughed at Cullen’s startled, flabbergasted reaction.  The commander looked to her to reinforce his protest, but the seeker just waved halfheartedly and ran after Evie.  She knew if she was in the mage’s shoes, she would not stop either. 

The Inner Circle gathered in the lower courtyard near the old stables within minutes.  The demon entrenched itself in that deserted area of the fortress.  The area had remained off limits since they arrived since it was most ramshackle and required the most work.

Evie was drinking her fifth rejuvenation potion by the time a battleton of templars arrived, led by Knight-Captain Rylen, a former templar from Starkhaven and one of Cullen’s closest friends.  All the knights’ attention focused on the beast, whispering to themselves how the Inquisition allowed an envy demon to invade the keep.  The mage’s cheek twitched, hobbling over to a knight near the castle wall.

“Malcolm!”  She spat blood at the knight.  “Did you bring Burton here!?  Did you all planned on taking over the Inquisition!?”

Cassandra estimated the knight was barely twenty-two, preferring a sword and dagger over the traditional templar weapon.  Evie knew this man, tapping his breastplate repeatedly with her bloodied index finger.  The knight shook his head repeated as she finally grabbed the neck of his breastplate.  “Please, Evelyn! W-we had no idea!  Uncl-“

“Shut up!”  Evie smacked the templar in the helmet with an empty glass potion bottle, shattering glass shards everywhere and caused the mental to ring in the knight’s ears.  “Father cannot protect you in _my_ house! After this is over, all of Trevelyans and Free Marches templars are under arrest until we make sure none of you are abominations!”

The declaration caused the young man to panic.  “Abominations!  Eve-“

“SHUT UP!”  Evie hollered, throwing the knight to the ground.  All the other templars backed away from the Inquisitor, keeping their hands up in front of them to show they meant no ill will and were unarmed.  Cassandra beamed with pride.  Evie was becoming her favorite person each and every day.

“Commander!  Rylen!  Barris!”  The Herald called.  “What is the plan!?”

“Inquisitor, we knights need lyrium to dispel the barrier.”  Ser Barris explained, pointing to Envy’s fortified location.  “However, Commander Cullen is the only senior templar here that has even faced an envy demon.”

“Then he’ll lead this.” Evie decided, flicking her hand to turn control to the Inquisition’s military leader.  Cassandra threw Cullen a look.  The commander already stilled himself.

“Inquisitor, it isn’t that easy.”  He mumbled, shaken by the situation.

“Why not?!”  Evie hissed, placing her hands on her hips.  Blood dripped from her torso to the point her battered tunic stuck to her small frame.  “You have been a templar for over fifteen years.  You might not be part of the Order now, but we both know you still are capable.”

“No, I’m not.”

“ _Yes,_ you are!”

Cassandra gritted her teeth.  Cullen had yet to talk to the Inquisitor about _anything_.  She did not know.  The seeker nearly threw her shield at the daft man.  Here he blamed her for not handling the templars.  He hissed that the advisors for not being honest, while he himself kept his secrets.

Cullen ran his fingers through his hand, while pulling Evie’s right arm—her broken arm at that—with his other.  The seeker approached the two people as they distanced themselves from the templars.  Evie winced in pain, smacking the man’s gauntlets repeatedly in protest.

“Eve…”  Cullen whimpered, finally let go as the mage went to bite him.  “I no longer take lyrium!”

Evie froze, her bright green eyes glowed and widened.  “ _What?!_ ”

“I meant to tell-“

The Inquisitor pointed at the commander’s face, yelling.  “You and I are going to have a _LONG_ talk after this.  _That_ is an order.”  The mage crossed her arms.  “What then!?  Anyone else what to fuck up more!?”

“I can assist.  So can the seeker.”  Cullen muttered, squeezing his eyes shut.  Her screaming and insults rattled everyone nearby.  “I believe Rylen, Barris, and Hugh can handle it with the other knights.”

Evie circled around him, storming back to Ser Barris.  Ser Hugh finally joined the group, standing at the ready beside Cullen’s second.  “Change of plan.  The seeker and the _knight-commander_ will assist.  Get the lyrium.  Prepare the alliance mages to assist once the barrier is down, but keep them at a distance to not impact their mana.”

Cullen rubbed his neck, sighing deeply.  All the advisors understood when Evie used the commander’s old title she was infuriated with him to the point he might turn to ash at any given moment.  Cassandra groaned at the man, flicking her hand towards him.  “You won’t get any sympathy from me…”

Everything was executed according to plan.  Evie remained by the templars as they chanted and drank their lyrium to begin their anti-magical assault.  She nearly fainted a few times when they would silence incoming demonic attacks.  Cassandra and Cullen instructed the lower ranks throughout the process.  The barrier was down in a matter of moments.

Evie’s inner circle and the alliance mages jumped into action.  They cornered the envy demon easily as it kept attempting to teleport away.  The battle was over as soon as it started.  The demon never had a chance as soon as Evie summoned a firestorm and set the whole area aflame.  Once the demon was set aflame and screaming, the mage summoned a spell from the Anchor, one no one had ever seen.  She opened a fade rift above its head, tearing at its flesh with the Fade’s gravity until its head tore off.  The four legged mass fell to the ground with a _thud_ as the Inquisitor made a fist with her left hand and closed the rift.  The Inquisitor panted, kicking its body among the inferno, allowing its ash to dissipate into the smoking area.

Evie’s attention shifted to the assembled groups.  Her magic was still close to her body. Cassandra watched the embers swirl around her quickly as if she would summon another spell and murder the insubordinates.  She approached the templars, who still panted and kneeled from their barrier assault.

The Inquisitor drove her staff into the ground beside her.  “Templars!”  All the knights looked up at the mage.  Their eyes shimmered from the lyrium in their veins, although Cassandra admitted it was fear too.  “Hear me speak these words.  To feel the truth in your hearts:  I am the will of Our Lady manifested.  I am the Herald of Andraste.  She sent me to remind you of your sacred duty:  a shield against dark magic.  The Inquisition invited you here to march with us against the chaos, against the ancient magister who has poisoned your fellow knights.  Your leaders drank a ghastly form of lyrium that has turned your Order into monsters.  You may blame me and my advisors for not saving you, but your arrogance and self-righteous beliefs kept you from thinking for yourselves!”

Evie started to pace in front of the line of templars as they hung their heads in shame.  “The mages are our partners, but they are probation and must follow some given guidelines to keep our trust.  I planned on giving you the same opportunity because I do not want to the Order to flounder.  There is still a need for it.  Andraste and the Maker need to you to protect the innocent from maleficars and demons, such as Envy.” 

Her bright green eyes shut, shaking her head.  “Then, my own kin invited this demon into the castle.  Most of you believed in its lies and taunts, reflective of my family who believe I was evil incardinated for most of my life.  You still did not have your own minds!  Many of you want to keep feeding your addictions, the Chantry’s disgusting chain that keeps you compliant.”

The Inquisitor stopped her pace, sticking out her blood-coated chest and holding her sweaty head high.  “If you are to remain under the Inquisition, many things must change.  Mages are not your charges.  They are people and your allies.  One murmur of hate, and you will be out the door immediately.  You may ask me and my advisors about our orders and choices, for we will listen.  We want you to think for yourself and not as mindless, simpleton brutes in armor.  However, if you push and attempt to revolt, out the gate with a fireball up your bums!  You might hate the idea of a mage leading, but you apparently missed when I said I was leading _with_ you, not over you!  You think you deserve better rights here, then prove it.  Be better than what your Order has become.  Ser Barris will be your voice to the Inquisition’s leaders.  I better have a plan on how you will improve your ranks on my desk within the end of the week.  Do I make myself clear!?”

“Yes, Inquisitor.”  Their voices were barely audible.

“I can’t heard you, Knights who hold the Sword of Mercy!”  The Inquisitor called, lifting her marked glowing hand over her head, signifying her divine role in Thedas and the Inquisition.

“Aye, Inquisitor Evelyn Trevelyan, Herald of Andraste!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cullen is going to get his ass KICKED! XD
> 
> One of my favorite chapters. I am happy how it turned out. I never planned on using the templar/envy part until I was replaying the game. The little shift on canon was enough to establish what I intended in the story arch. It sets the tone of what will happen...


	4. Reaping What You Sown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song: "Against the Tide" by Celldweller
> 
> Story utilizes existing events and conversations from Dragon Age: Inquisition, all owned by Bioware and EA.

The Free Marches templar treachery exposed more than the advisors had anticipated.  The Inquisitor’s infections were not caused by her initial wound from Haven.  A Venatori sympathizer mage accompanied the Free March neutralists and purposely prepared moldy and rotten herbs that only exacerbated the sickness, essentially poisoning the Inquisitor.  Almost all the Marcher templars and mages were kept in quarantine until the Inquisition could deem them not possessed or adversaries.  Several knights from the city-states were Trevelyans, all with negative opinions towards their mage cousin.

“It has always been that way.”  Evie sighed, crossing her arms over her chest.  She laid in bed in the north tower being briefed by the advisors.  “As soon as my magic manifested, it was an all-out war to remove magic from the bloodline.  While I was hurried off to the Circle, both my mother and brother nearly died from assassination attempts.  Dorian confessed that there is a Trevelyan in his linage, meaning magic has always been part of the House, just hasn’t risen until me…or anyone else that we know really.”

“The Trevelyan knights are eager to gain your favor now.” Cullen commented.  “They have petition to be part of your inner circle.”

“Please tell them to shove it.”  Evie snapped.  “They’re as bad as my Chantry relations.  Each one of those bastards are responsible for my mistreatment in Ostwick’s Circle.”

 “There is fear your family will manipulate the Inquisition.”  Cassandra advised.  “And that is not just me complaining about their influence.”

“Yes,” Josephine nodded, then picking up a letter from her tablet.  “I have already received a missive from Bann Trevelyan, and I quote ‘openly supporting the Inquisition and my daughter, Evelyn Tesni Trevelyan, the Herald of Andraste.  I denounced anyone from my House who commits slanderous acts towards thee.’ End quote.”

“Now that Father’s primary clients have found another form of lyrium and the Chantry is too weak to give any power, he does not need to hide anymore.”  Evie rubbed her temples.  “Please tell me the lyrium we’re using isn’t from Trevelyan ships?”

“No,” Josephine exclaimed.  “We have direct contacts with Orzammar who supply our lyrium.  I figured there might be too much conflict of interest if we contacted your family’s shipping enterprise.”

“Although, the lyrium used for the Breach did come from that smuggler, Sister Tanner.” Leliana cooed.

“Thus probably Carta.”  Evie laughed.  “My, that will royally piss off Father.”  Evie grinned happily at the thought.

Cullen smiled as he studied the woman in bed.  The Inquisitor’s health substantially improved from a few days ago.  All infections were cured once the tainted ingredients were tested and adjusted.  Color returned to her face.  Her abdomen quickly healed, but still contained tracts of red lyrium from the dagger.  The first night was the most difficult because the volatile stuff made her more paranoid than ever.  She spurted magic randomly, but luckily kept the Anchor under control.  Her north tower loft was now charred in a few places and needed repainting, but it could have been worst.  The mage primarily remained in bed because she was still slightly fatigued, and she promised Cullen that she would allow the ambassador to tie her up and rest.

“Ser Burton’s body was located.” Leliana stated, stirring the conversation back to the envy demon.  “According to the templars who travelled with him, they met a contingent of templars leaving Therinfal Redoubt a few days before arriving here.  Everyone believed they were fleeing from the red templars and never questioned their brothers’ intentions.”

“The envy demon originated from the templar fortress, most likely posing as one of their leaders, even the Lord Seeker potentially.” Cullen added, reviewing a report.  “After the templars became those monsters, it must have moved within the ranks to get to you.”

“It said it was working for Corypheus.”  Evie muttered, having a hard time keeping her hands settle.  She started to pull mana from the mark and burn it off to keep herself occupied.  “Probably the magister’s way of utilizing me since I survived Haven.  It doesn’t surprise me it adopted Burton.  It probably assumed since we were family, he could get close to me, then read his negative thoughts.”

“I assume you are not broken up over your cousin’s death.” Cassandra eyed.  Her Nevarran accent had a lilt of smugness behind it.

Evie laughed.  “I should shake that demon’s hand really.  Burton used to serve at Ostwick Circle.  He is the third son of one of my father’s younger sisters.  He wasn’t going to get any inheritance and was a major pain in the asre for my aunt, so off he went to the templars.  After an…incident at the Circle, he was transferred to Wycome.  Almost all Trevelyan templars were sent away from Ostwick because their attempts to harm me.”

“Were they that cruel to you?” Josephine asked curiously.

“Ostwick was a lax Circle primarily for everyone else, _but_ me.  I was a blemish to the house.”  Evie sighed, rolling her head around her shoulders.  “People refused to marry into the family because they did not want mage children.  Dumb idiots.  My father controlled the situation as best as possible, but in the end, I was an outcast.  Circle mages who associated with me were more likely beaten and punished.  So, I remained alone.”

“Maker…” Josephine whispered.  “I am so sorry.”

“Eh.”  Evie shrugged.  “I just remember how much has changed.  If my relations think they can control me and the Inquisition, I have twenty-eight years of abuse and harassment to use against them.”

“That is a relief, Evelyn.” Cassandra smiled.  “It has made you strong and resistant.”

“Thanks, Cassandra.”  Evie grinned back, tilting her head.  “Now, if you all excuse me, I believe the commander and I have some _things_ to discuss.” All eyes turned to Cullen.  The commander sighed, knowing he could not hide his secret any longer from the advisors and the Inquisitor. 

 “One more message, Inquisitor, before you set the man on fire.” Leliana cooed, giggling a little.  “Varric’s contact will be here within the next week.  Apparently, he had some difficulty sending a crow because of thunderstorms around that location.”

“It had better not be who I think it is, I will wring that little bastard’s neck.” Cassandra threatened, taking the first steps to the stairwell.

“Good.” Evie grinned.  “The more information we have on Corypheus, the better.  Dorian is searching archives for the creature’s linage and possible adversaries.  Make sure he has the proper resources and assistance for his research.  We need an archivist to sort all our records and obtain new sources.  Maybe that stupidly annoying elf mage that demanded the world in Haven?  The one Cassandra snapped at?  Gets him out of everyone’s hair and gives Dorian someone to complain about.”

Cassandra simply rolled her eyes.

“Of course.  I will contact him within the alliance mages.  Thank you, Inquisitor.”  Josephine nodded, following Cassandra’s lead.

Each woman passed by the blond man, patting his shoulder or smirking as they walked towards the stairwell.  Cassandra groaned, her lip twitching because she was still irked with the former templar for waiting so long.  Leliana hid her smile behind her gloved hand.  Josephine mouthed ‘Good luck.’

Both people waited until the tower door shut and echoed up the stairwell.  Evie glanced away from the man, studying a flight of crows taking off from Leliana’s rookery.  Cullen edged closer to the bed, realizing the Inquisitor only wore a thin linen tunic.  Her bandages cover most of her exposed body, but her breasts were unbound and noticeable through the fabric.  The commander immediately looked away, squeezing his eyes shut.  This was not the time to sexualize Evie.  She may never want to speak to him again after this conversation.

“How long?”

Her voice echoed in the large room.  Cullen swallowed.  “Since I landed in Ferelden seven months ago.”

“You know it can kill you.”

“It hasn’t yet.”

“Did you ween yourself or just cold turkey?”

“Weened myself while in transient to Ferelden, just like the amounts a recruit takes before becoming a full templar.  I know cold turkey can kill someone quickly.”[1]

“Still too fast after so many years on the damn stuff…”

“I’m alive though.  That says something, right?”

Evie reached for a piece of metal on her nightstand, the broken blade from her gut.  “My grandfather drank lyrium for almost fifty years.  He was an abusive man who died younger than he should.  By the time people noticed the lyrium effects, he already forgot blocks of memory.  Barely remembered my uncle’s name at his wake.  When my grandmother passed, it got worse.  My father has scars from the night he finally went insane.  The official announcement stated he accidently fell from his balcony.  The family knows he nearly killed four elven servants, my father, and his sister Lucille.  Grand-Aunt Lucille pushed him over the balcony to save herself from his blade.”

The mage fell silent for a few moments, rubbing her right shoulder, allowing the metal to sit in her lap.  “Why did you not tell me?”

Cullen ran his hand through his hair.  “I asked Cassandra…to watch me.  She has known about my choice since she recruited me.  If my ability to lead is compromised, I will be relieved from duty.”

“Fuck the Inquisition at the moment.”  Evie hissed.  “You couldn’t trust me?  Is it because of my family’s operations?”

“It has nothing to do with that.”  Cullen snapped and swiped his hand through the air.  “You…You and I kept swinging between being cordial to enemies constantly.  I-I didn’t know where I stood with you.”

Evie grimaced, rubbing her temples.  “I want you to know I hate that blue shit.  I haven’t used it since my Harrowing.”

Cullen blinked a few times.  “Truly?”

“I spent years increasing my mana pool and enchanted my armor and staffs with quick mana regeneration runes.”[2]  The mage waved him over towards the bed.  “The templars stated that my Harrowing lyrium was extra potent, delivered by my family that morning.  They really thought I was not going to succeed, and when I came to, everyone was astonished.  I found out later why…they attempted to poison me, tainted the lyrium with nightshade to weak me while in the Fade.  Rian had only died a few days before and…”

Evie struggled to keep tears from forming her eyes, tilting the broken piece on its end with her finger tip.  “Are you in pain?”

“I can endure it.”

“Will you tell me when you’re suffering?”

"This is my burden to bear, not yours.”

Evie huffed and let the broken blade fall over, crossing her arms.  She threw Cullen a look almost setting the man ablaze.  “Can you tell me why you are risking your life?”

Esme Trevelyan’s voice whisper in Cullen’s mind.  He winced.  “After…after what happened in Kirkwall, I couldn’t…I will not be bound to the Order—or that life—any long.  Whatever the suffering, I accept it.”

Cullen continued, shaking Esme’s damnations to the back of his mind.  “Also…Raleigh Samson was the red general beside Corypheus, responsible for leading the red templars from the fortress to Haven…When I arrived in Kirkwall, Samson and I shared quarters.  He seemed a decent man, at first.  Knight-Commander Meredith later expelled Samson for ‘erratic behavior.’  He ended up begging on Kirkwall’s streets.  He committed further crimes, even attempted to win the Champion’s favor.  He always managed to evade the Order’s justice.  He had a chronic lyrium addiction.  He spent every coin buying it from local smugglers.  To think that man serves that monster…No, I will not be chained to addiction.  I will not be another Samson, chasing the next vial.”

Evie nodded.  “I understand that.  I respect your decision.  If I can help, please let me know.  I am not saying that because I am your Inquisitor…It’s that…you helped me countless times, and I have been rude and spiteful towards you on many occasions.”  Evie placed her hand on his.

“I deserve it.”  Cullen sighed, rubbing his neck with his other hand.  “Eve…There’s more…and you will hate me for it.”

Evie sighed, glancing away.  “I doubt that.”

Cullen felt the lump in his throat as Esme’s whispers intensified.  “In Kirkwall…”  He pinched his nose.  He did not want to see Evie’s expression.  “I was your brother Esme’s commanding officer.  I stationed him in the Chantry.”

Cullen froze, waiting for her yelling and tears.

“I know.”  His face flung to the mage squeezing his gloved hand repeatedly.  Tears pooled in her eyes.  “I…I found out in Val Royeaux…”

“Eve, you have to believe me.  I was trying to protect him.  He was a good man and fine a knight.  If he became mixed up in the Gallows, it would have eaten him alive.  I did so to shield him from the lies and blood magic.  Every day I regret I did not act sooner, maybe been able to prevent the Chantry explosion if I just questioned orders sooner.  Maker, please… please forgive me!”

Evie squeezed his hand again, allowing a few tears to fall before wiping them away.  “Did he…did you tell him how you feel about mages?”

“That damn dwarf…”  Cullen hissed, running his hand through his hair again.  Curls broke loose and hit his temples.  “I was…stupid…young when I said that.  I regret it every day of my life.  I joined the Inquisition as atonement.  When I met you, I believed it was the Maker’s way for me to recover, to push back against all the blood magic and abominations I witnessed.  I have taken upon myself to guard you and respect you because I didn’t protect the mages all those years.  I only looked at them as dangerous weapons.  You set me straight that they are people too.  No, Esme never heard such bullshit from me.  I don’t think he would believe it.”

Evie nodded.  “So…atonement.”  Her voice was low and rough.  Her eyes dulled and darkened a little.  “I…forgive you…it hurt at first, but it is good to have this out in the open.”

Her soft spoke nature shifted to that devilish grin she had since the first advisors meeting.  “Is that why you are my guard mabari?”

Cullen blinked.  “Come again?”

The mage burst out laughing, clapping a few times.  “Sera has been calling you my mabari since Haven.  I’m surprise no one told you.”

Cullen turned slightly red.  “I have heard barking when I pass someone…and I did find some kibble on my desk yesterday.”

Evie laughter grew, perking one eyebrow.  “Do I need to get you a leash?  Walk you outside?”

Cullen pinched his nose.  “Maker’s breath…”  It only caused Evie to laugh harder.

A few moments passed before Evie calmed down.  Even then, every time she looked at the commander she giggled some more.  Cullen wore a bright shade of red, reviewing all the moments throughout the last three weeks where people have referenced dogs and mabari in his presence.  The commander planned a new set of drills for the recruits if they growled again during training.

Evie studied him closely.  “What was he like?”

Cullen’s amber eyes locked on hers.  “What do you mean?”

The mage gripped his hand again.  Cullen started to hate his gloved gauntlets.  Every fiber of his being just wanted to embrace the woman.  “He was three when I left for the Circle.  I received letters from him, yet never saw him in person.  I thought he would be sent to Ostwick Circle, but when his letter said he was going to Kirkwall…”

“He asked for a transfer.” Cullen remembered from his personnel file.  “Meredith refused.”

Evie moved her hand up to his elbow.  Her fingers wrapped around the leather between the gauntlets and the pauldrons.  Cullen could feel the heat pulsing from her fingertips.

“He spoke of you…the first time we met.” Cullen whispered, inching closer to her.  “You always tested mixtures and potions.”

Evie grinned a little.  “I nearly blew up the Circle doing it too.”  She tilted her head, allowing her wavy curls to cup her face.  Cullen swooned at the sight.  It was the first time since before Haven she looked healthy and…Maker, she was more exquisite than before.  “I’m…relieved you knew of me before all this.”

“I am humbled and honored to meet you, Milady.” Cullen picked up her hand and kissed it.  “I hope we will be more open with one another after this.”

Evie’s cheek flashed red with his words and gentlemanly action.  Her mouth gapped, searching for words to speak her thoughts.  Her face morphed from happiness to pain, wincing as she withdrew her hand from his grasp.  “Yes…”  Her voice was rough and stern.  “Do you hate me for not going to the templars?”

Her bright green eyes ached for his response.  Cullen’s mouth gapped.  “No, Maker, I don’t think that.  Yes, I am ashamed that the Order has come to this, but you were right.  The templars never questioned their officers.  You’re giving them a chance here to rebuild and be better than they were.  To return to their roots.”

“Please question my choices, Cullen…” Evie whimpered, wiping away a few more tears.  “Keep me from becoming a monster.”

“You can never be a monster, Eve.”

“Envy almost did.”

That caused Cullen to lean back.  Would he be able to recognize it was not Evie if the demon had succeed?  That was an easy answer.  “No one can be you, Eve.  Even the strongest demons cannot mimick your temper.”

Evie smirked a little.  It quickly disappeared as a series of thoughts flickered across her eyes.  “I hope…I hope we can…be friends?”

Cullen’s chest stung hearing the word _friend_.  Were they not before this?  Could he just be her friend and advisor even with his strong feelings?  The commander should be happy that she still wanted to speak to him after confessing being part of her brother’s death.  “O-of course.” 

_Knock!  Knock!_

Both people jumped at the sudden noise with Cullen rising to his feet.  Evie kicked off her blankets, unaware she was bare from the waist down.  Her tunic barely covered her groin.  Internally, Cullen wanted to gaze on her full beauty again and see what happened to her body since Haven.  The gentlemen inside him smacked his eyes away.  Cullen lifted his hand.  “Stay.  I will see who it is.”

Evie grinned a little, watching the commander skip down the stairs towards the tower door quickly.  She knew what she was doing to him.  That was good sign, right?  It raised an urge to tease her in return.  He pulled the door open.  Maybe they _were_ possible-

-Cullen thought the lyrium withdrawal was tricking with his eyes.  He pinched his nose and looked again.  Nothing changed.  He rubbed them, wishing the vision would disappear.  It was the same blond wavy hair, the striking sky blue eyes.  Her skin was as fair as snow with a touch of pink across her cheeks.  Even how the woman stood with her basket of goods was just like her.

Along with the faint sunburst brand on her forehead.

“Cullen, who is it?”

The commander could not find his voice, leaning against the door for balance.  The woman spoke for him instead.  “It is Maya, Inquisitor.  I am here to change your bandages.”  Her voice was monotone and hollow.  For a second, Cullen wanted to weep, remembering her chirper, sweet tone when she read fairytales.

“Oh!”  Evie called from her bed.  “Please, come up!  Commander, I want you to meet someone.”

 _I already know her…more than I ever should_.  Cullen’s thoughts rang, stepping back to allow the tranquil woman to pass.  He slowly followed back up the stairs, keeping his eyes down and his face as stolid as possible.

Just like that day ten years ago.

The commander stopped on the last stair, hiding himself partly behind the banister.  The woman walked over to Evie’s bedside, carrying her basket of herbs, bandages, and potions.  Evie beamed at the tranquil with kind eyes.

“Commander Cullen, meet Maya Amell.”  Evie waved her hand to the woman shuffling through her basket.

The tranquil turned around and bowed.  “Good day, Commander.”

Cullen did know how he was keeping himself together.  He revealed a great deal of his past today, avoiding Kinloch Hold Circle completely from the discussion.  Evie did not ask further about his symptoms, probably aware of their harshness.  She never asked why his opinion of mages shifted drastically.  Yet, his greatest mistake stood just a few feet away, not remembering him at all.

“Fiona informed me that the rebels were using Kinloch Hold as a secondary base.”  Evie explained gleefully.  “That’s where most of the children were staying, along with the tranquil who had always been at that Circle.  Maya is one of the finest alchemic healers here.”

Cullen’s mind would not leave him alone.  _Her specialty.  Enchanter Wynne believed she would be a fine healer to serve outside the Circle, trustworthy and tender._

“I thank you for your praise, Inquisitor.”  The tranquil stated with no emotion.

“She arrived the day before the envy demon with the last of the alliance mages.”  Evie leaned back as the tranquil started studying her abdomen.  “I’m doing so well because of her.”

“We’re relieved, Inquisitor.”  He did not sound like himself.  He did not know how he was breathing let alone speaking.

“We must remove your tunic, Inquisitor.” Maya instructed her patient.

“I think that is your cue to go, Cullen.”  Evie winked at him.  “Unless you want a show…”

“No…thank you.”  The commander nodded, slowly walking down the stairs.  “Good day…Inquisitor.”

Somehow, his feet escorted his frozen body back to his tower.  When he arrived and locked his door, Cullen could not stop purging.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] I understand why some fan fictions have the Inquisitor regulate Cullen’s weening doses.  It’s a loving and caring gesture, but I think Cullen would know to do that himself.  Even though the DA creators never openly stated when recruits or full templars start taking lyrium (see Alistair in DA:  Origins for a major example), but I doubt the Order would give them the most potent dose all at once.  The poor guys would fall over and die!  I think Gefionne’s “The Void Before Us” does an excellent job telling when templar-recruits start drinking the blue stuff and why.  Non-mages, besides dwarves, are actually poisoned by lyrium, so they would need to build a tolerance first, much like assassins/rogues/bards build tolerates to poisons they use on a regular basis (i.e. “The Princess Bride”).  Cullen, as a knight-captain and seeing Samson downfall, would know to be careful and not stop completely, but that’s just my theory.
> 
> [2] I don’t know about the rest of you, but by Level Thirteen, I never had a low mana/stamina problem while playing DAI.  “Sigil of the Giant” FTW!  I balance the -100% Cooldown Time with the “Superb Cooldown Amulet” and never suffer.


	5. Ownership

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING!  
> Mention of Abortion
> 
> This is a short chapter, but very relevant and important.
> 
> Chapter Song: "Rule the World" by Walk Off the Earth (Great group who became famous on YouTube a few years ago. Check them out!)
> 
> Story utilizes existing events and conversations from Dragon Age: Inquisition, all owned by Bioware and EA.
> 
> I've hit writer's block on the next section I'm writing. I know what I want to say, but just can't get myself to sit and do it. UGH! XD! How do you all handle writer's blocks?

“Ugh!”

Josephine jumped in place, hearing the Inquisitor hiss and groan from her loft bedroom.  The ambassador held her writing tablet close to her chest, reconsidering if this was the best time to speak with her leader.  She shook her apprehension away.  If Cullen and Cassandra found out she had yet to speak to Evie, they would forcibly drag the Antivan upstairs and lock both women inside.  That possibility would only hinder her strained relationship with the Inquisitor.

Josephine racked her brain for months wondering why Evie only spoke to her briefly and left before the ambassador could speak.  One word about an arriving envoy or nobleman wishing to meet the Herald and the mage immediately said she was needed elsewhere.  She could not run fast enough out of the ambassador’s office.  Their conversation in the Chantry cellar was the last time they spoke at length about anything, and even then Josephine figured it was because she was blocking the doorway.

Had the Antivan been disrespectful?  Forgot a Free Marches custom and offended the mage?  Suggested something that hurt Evie?

Their meeting the day before clued Josephine to be more careful about the Trevelyan Family.  Although she had not attended one of Lady Lucille’s summer parties in years, the ambassador always considered the noble house one of the finest in the Free Marches and highly respected throughout Thedas.  However, each day Josephine learned more about the venom underneath their shining guise.  There had always been rumors, but they disappeared as quickly as they started.  Apparently, the family handled their scandals quickly and out of the public eye, specifically Evie’s life.  Knowing now that her relatives abused the mage, no wonder she hated nobles.

Josephine failed Evie.  She handled the mage like a Trevelyan despite that same family treating her so horribly.  She must apologize and understand Evie as an individual, not a noble from a strong family.

“One day, I will have my own clothing!” The Inquisitor hollered as the ambassador walked up the stairs.  “As a kid, Mother dressed me like a porcelain doll.  In the Circle, I wore those rough nasty standard-issue robes.  Since the Conclave, I ruined every piece of Harritt’s armor sets.  Now, I am finally well enough to walk around, and there’s nothing here but oversize tunics and hideous trousers!  Is it too much to ask for a comfortable brassiere?  A corset even?!  If I wear one more Qunari wrap, my boobs will hang over my shoulders!”

Josephine reached the loft, watching Evie tear through random clothes in a trunk her assistant Fesill delivered.  The Herald’s health improved substantially.  The healers permitted her to leave bedrest, wander the grounds, and review fortress improvements.  Josephine would escort her instead of Cullen, who was too occupied with the influx of new recruits.  “If I may, Inquisitor-“  The Antivan whispered.

Evie jumped five feet in the air, flipped over backwards and pointed a fireball at the interloper.  “Maker’s arse!”

“My apologies, my Lady.” The ambassador squeaked, holding out her hands.  “I thought Fesill told you I would be coming up for your tour.”

Evie sighed heavily, dissipating her spell from her right hand.  “She…did.  I’m just having a fit.” She muttered, throwing her hands in the air.

“May I make a suggestion?”  The ambassador pointed at the clothes piles on the floor.  “You stated months ago you would love to go clothes shopping.  Now that we have settled down in Skyhold and we are waiting for Varric’s contact, perhaps you may travel to Val Royeaux to order some garments.”

Evie eyed the woman like she just suggested cutting off her marked hand.  “What’s your game, Ambassador…?”

Josephine’s mouth gaped, startled how such an innocent suggestion could cause such mistrust from the mage.  “Nothing.  It seemed the most likely solution to your personal conundrum.  I meant no ill will.”

Evie waved her hand before returning to the garments strung everywhere.  She still wore a tunic provided after being stabbed by the demon.  She wrapped a sheet around her waist until she could find some pants to cover herself.  Thank goodness the balcony doors were closed and the tower was the highest in the castle.  “There is too much to do.  Reviews, paperwork, strategy planning against Corypheus.  Besides, I won’t spend the Inquisition’s money on something so foolish.”

“I do not think it is silly.”  Josephine huffed, placing her tablet on the Inquisitor’s desk.  “In your new role, you will be meeting with people from throughout Thedas.  They will spread their opinions when they leave Skyhold.  We must appear capable, respectable, and well dressed.”

“Gotta look the damn part…” Evie grimaced.  “…Of course, Cassandra couldn’t agree to fifty-fifty…”

“Come again?”

Evie waved her hand again.  “Forget it…”

“And you could use your trust funds.”

That caused Evie to freeze and stare at the ambassador.  “What?”

Josephine prepared herself for yelling.  “Your father’s seneschal notified me.  Now that the bann recognizes your new role and you are no longer in the Circle, you may utilize your trust funds.”

Evie blinked a few times, tossing her wet auburn hair behind her.  “I have money…?”  She shook her head.  “No, it is my father’s way to control us.  Absolutely not!”

“I reviewed the documents myself.” Josephine advised.  “The trust was established at your birth to protect you if something happened to your father.  It became your own money once you turned eighteen, but since you were a Circle mage, you were barred from the funds.  Now that no longer applies…”

“Where are the funds?”

“In a bank in Ostwick, but they can be transferred anywhere with your permission.”

“How much?”

“The documents did not say, but it has been accruing interest set at five percent a year since your birth.”

“Maker’s arse!”  Evie rubbed her temples.  “It could be…Josephine, give the Inquisition up to seventy-five percent of the interest.  The remaining interest will remain in a Ferelden bank account with the best percentage for further accruement for emergencies.  The original funds will be placed as lines of credit to a list of vendors and merchants of my choosing.  I don’t want my sister learning about this, so it’s better to hide the money in plain sight.”

Josephine’s chocolate brown eyes studied the Herald, who looked a little scared.  “Your sister?”

Evie sighed, resting her hands on her hips.  She walked over to the couch across the room.  “Come here.  You should know this since we will appeal to the Imperial Court.”

The ambassador followed, leaving her tablet on the desk.  A part of her felt uneasy by Evie’s nervousness.  However, this could explain Evie’s apprehension.  The Antivan smoothed her silk garments before sitting down.  “Is everything okay, Inquisitor?”

“Please, Evelyn, especially right now.”  Josephine nodded, seeing Evie brace herself.  “You’ve met my sister, Patricia.  What was your impression?”

Josephine thought for a moment.  “A confident, dignified individual who conducts herself in the noblest manners.  We have only met a few times at parties, but I haven’t seen her in at least five years.  I understand she’s married, but I do not know to who.  It is like the family forgot about her.”

Evie nodded, cupping her hands and leaning forward.  “Patricia and I are mortal enemies.”  Josephine blinked a few times, watching the mage closely.  “Ever since her mother died and my father married my mother, she has been fighting tooth and nail to get rid of my mother and me.  She calls me a _yalddaughter._ ”

Josephine gasped.  “A prostitute’s daughter?!”

“She swears I was conceived before wedlock, thus a bastard.”  Evie sighed, running her fingers through her wavy hair.  “Relations got so serious at one point that Grand-Aunt Lucille accepted Patricia as her ward to avoid scandal, Lucille’s specialty.”  Evie chuckled once.  “You know Lucille.  You want to know why she never married?”

“I-…There were rumors.”  Josephine felt uncomfortable because she knew the mage would not sugarcoat the situation.

“Lucille got pregnant when she was sixteen by one of the family’s sailors.”  Evie leaned back, staring at the ceiling.  “My grandfather forced her to drink an abortion tonic, and he drowned the sailor at sea.  Unfortunately, the poison left her barren.  Huh, we might have something in common now.”  The Herald rubbed her abdomen.  “As the oldest child, it would seem strange to be a Chantry sister, so she was given the ‘honor’ of handling the family’s scandals.  Any intra-relation issue is handled by her.  She controls the family’s spy network.”

“So, by raising Patricia, she was avoiding a scene?”  Josephine concluded.

Evie nodded.  “Partially.  Lucille wanted to secure my sister’s role in the family.  She educated her on the Grand Game, making her the most manipulative and sly person ever.  She’s better at espionage than my father, twisting him to reluctantly agree that Patricia may marry an Orlesian high noble.”

“Who is her husband?”

Evie glanced down the stairwell behind her, grimacing.  “Laurent de Ghislain.”

Josephine’s eyes widen.  “Maker!  You mean Bastein de Ghislain’s son, the heir to their estate and future head of the Council of Heralds.”

“The very one.”

“He is twice her age!  Why have I not heard her name in court?”

“You said it yourself that the Trevelyans ‘forgot her.’  Intentional move by my father to test Patricia.  If she could survive the Grand Game alone, she may be worthy to lead the house.  Furthermore, she uses some variant of her name.  Trisha?  Patrice?  Pantsy?  Something stupid.”

“Does Vivienne-“

“Oh yes!”  Evie laughed once.  “The first enchanter’s gracious offer was no accident.  Although my sources states the mage and Patricia are adversaries, I will not risk having that woman anywhere near Inquisition business.  She could be using her position to feed Patricia information.  Yet, I won’t let a powerful adversary run rampant without watching her closely, thus why she’s here.  I cannot inherit the Trevelyan house because I’m a mage, but as the Inquisition grows more powerful, it could turn family members against Patricia.  There is a struggle for power within the house, and it threatens Patricia’s succession.”

“Would Patricia be selfish enough to risk all of Thedas for a title?”  Josephine questioned, thinking through all conversations the first enchanter and she shared in the last months.

“Absolutely.”  Evie hissed.  “Patricia wants revenge.  She has her mother’s family supporting her and one of the oldest Orlesian duchies at her disposal.  If we wish to prevent Celene’s assassination, we will face Patricia and her supporters.”

The Inquisitor stood up, rubbing her temples.  “Josephine…I know you have said you are loyal to the Inquisition…but you served in Orlais for years.  You must understand why I might be…”

Josephine sighed, joining the pacing woman.  The bedsheet fell from Evie’s hips as she kept her fingertips frosty to massage away her stress.  “Is this why you questioned the envoy going to the templars?  And been short with me?”

Evie winced, dropping her hands.  “I should have told you sooner, but you always spoke to me as a noble, and I am not like that world.  Even before my magic, I preferred to roll in the mud and flash people in stupid dresses.  They already thought I was beneath them as a bastard, even if it was not true.  I know as Inquisitor, I am going to meet diplomats and seneschals, especially from Orlais, if we want to protect the empire.  However, I am a fish out of water.  I’m jumping on land gasping for air, while my sister has everyone wrapped around her little finger.  I cannot trust them, even when I’m reassured.”

“I understand, Evelyn.”  Josephine sighed, relieved the truth was out in the open.  “Now that I have an idea of your relations, I will be vigilant screening nobles and envoys so that only those we want to serve the Inquisition meet you.  I will work closely with Leliana so I am updated on rumors.  I apologies.  I should have addressed our communication difficulties earlier.  I did not want to be rude.”

Evie giggled, shaking her head.  “It was all me, Josephine.  I get along with people as well as a dragon is a lizard.  I…I learned long ago to not trust anyone, mostly myself.  In that snowstorm, bleeding to death, I decided everyone here had been kind and generous.  I had nothing to fear.  I want to change that, change my thinking, but fear grips me even now.  I’m waiting for the betrayal…the heartache.”

“I will do no such thing.”  Josephine bowed to the mage.  “I am honored to be with the Inquisition and serve as your ambassador in our battle against Corypheus...”  The ambassador shook, gripping the ruffles of her outfit. 

“You okay?”  Evie asked, watching the Antivan sit back down on the couch.

“I’ve had…difficulty forgetting Corypheus’ attack on Haven.”

The Herald joined the frighten woman on the sofa, placing her hand on Josephine’s arm.  “We all are.”

Josephine whispered, trying to avoid tears.  “Do you know who first leaped to arms?  Our workers.  They were so _proud_ of our cause…Corypheus simply cut them down.  So much screaming after that first blast of fire.  So many people turned to ash.  I…I have been slowly writing their families…So has Cullen for the soldiers.”

Evie sighed.  “I remaining ill for so long did not help either, not visiting the wounded and speaking to the families of those lost.  I will confess, I don’t sleep much.  The reason…why I might not like this loft is it feels like the Harrowing chamber in the Circle.  I typically sleep in places….where people won’t hear me scream when I awake from a nightmare.  I’ve awaken a few times recently still feeling the fire’s heat on my neck from the Conclave…and now Haven.”

Josephine faced the mage, gaping at the mouth.  How could she been so silly?  She only thought that Evie would like the loft because she preferred privacy and sleeping off the ground.  No wonder Cullen was so angry with her earlier.  “That’s it.  We’re going to Val Royeaux!”  The ambassador exclaimed, jumping to her feet.

“But-“

“No buts!” Josephine hissed, wagging her finger.  “You, Leliana, Cassandra, and I will leave for the capital in two days.  We will establish your funds at some vendors and find you some new clothes and personal effects.  Leliana will want to replace her shoe collection, and Cassandra needs to be _not_ here when Varric’s friend arrives.”

“What about Skyhold?”

Josephine waved her hand.  “Cullen is handling repairs.  He will work more quickly without four women complaining to him every moment.  Beside, we will say it is to decorate Skyhold for our future guests.  It gives us a chance to find some furniture so you can make this place your own.  Leliana also has business regarding that Venatori leading mage there.  We can investigate…between shopping and going to see a show.”

Evie jumped to her feet and clapped happily.  “The symphony?!”

“Absolutely!”  The ambassador beamed as the Inquisitor leaped into her arms.

“Thank you!”  Evie squeaked, hugging the Antivan repeatedly.  “I have always wanted to go!  We can get some messages to the empress regarding her potential assassination.”

“Let’s keep work to a minimum.” Josephine devilishly winked.

Evie laughed, skipping away for some clothes.  “Hot damn!”


	6. Fortepiano

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song: "Tainted" by Celldweller
> 
> Story utilizes existing events and conversations from Dragon Age: Inquisition, all owned by Bioware and EA
> 
> I'm pretty sick today, so there might be more errors than usual. :/

“I will put a bell on that woman!”

Cullen barely looked up from Krem’s investigation report of Therinfal Redoubt.  Josephine nudged the reinforced door open with her shoulder, panting and dishevel.  Her tablet was at her side as she attempted to straighten her black hair back into its braid.  Her behavior was nothing like the calm and sensible woman who presented herself with grace and manners to nobles.  She looked as those a specific rogue tricked her _again_ will a bucket of water above her door.

“Come in?”  Cullen stuttered, reviewing the frazzled woman.

“Is she here?”  The Antivan bit, eyeing the commander closely.

“Who, Ambassador?”

“You know who!”  Josephine snapped, glancing up the ladder to his loft.  “Evelyn, get down here!”

Cullen rose to his feet, puzzled by the woman’s demeanor.  “The Inquisitor isn’t here.  I haven’t seen her for the last two days.”

Josephine sighed, patting her chest and returning to her normal, controlled self.  “My apologies, Commander.  I need her to review some vendor reports for our Val Royeaux trip tomorrow, yet she has disappeared _again_!  I thought we were behind this…”

“She must be in Skyhold.”  The former templar deduced.  “She would not leave without notifying someone.”

“Yes, she would.”  Josephine snapped.  “She had a dispute with an Amaranthine bann earlier over something that happened during the Blight.  Evie stormed out of the grand hall with fireballs in each hand.  No one has seen her since.  I plan on addressing her temper on our ride to the capital tomorrow.  This is the fourth time I have had to clean up the mess.  Everyone said she was fine before the argument.  Something must have happened.”

Cullen sighed, rubbing his neck.  “Let me look for her.  If anything, she is somewhere letting off steam before coming back and apologizing.  Ever since the healers released her from bedrest, her stress level escalated quickly.”  The man prayed the ambassador did not notice his wince when he said ‘healers.’

“I see.”  Josephine breathed in and out a few times.  “I am going to calm down and have a glass of wine, but as soon as you find her, send her to my office immediately.  If she wants her clothes- I mean Skyhold’s banners on time, she needs to approve these vendors.”

The commanded pinched his nose.  “I do not see why banners and curtains required four women to go to Val Royeaux.  I mean Cassandra-“

“No.”  The Antivan snapped.  “All four of us have matters to handle in the capital.  Cassandra must make decisions in Evelyn’s absence since the Inquisitor cannot be in two places at once.  You already _barked_ a few times about us disrupting you.”  The ambassador giggled a few times behind her hand.

“Ugh…”  Cullen ran his hand through his hair.  “That bloody elf…”

“I know it is _rough_ , Commander, but Blackwall will make sure you are taken outside twice a day.  We don’t want you to make a mess all over your office.”  Josephine waved, skipping out his door before he threw something.

The commander flopped back down in his chair, pinching his nose.  Ever since Evie told him about the mabari joke, he noticed countless times where people made puns or left bones for him to find.  Sera even left dog treats on his dinner tray with a note ‘Good boy!  You’ll get a rub later!’

At least the jabs kept his mind occupied.  Ever since seeing Maya Amell in the Inquisitor’s quarters two days ago, the tranquil woman appeared everywhere he ventured.  Her monotone voice joined Esme Trevelyan and Raleigh Samson as haunting ghosts blaring into his broken mind.  Cullen avoided closing his eyes, fearing what the Fade had in store.  Right as he felt he and Evie could move past difficulties, the ex-templar’s mistakes appeared everywhere.  Atonement felt farther from his reach.

Cullen avoided Evie since their discussion, primarily fearing she would read his behavior.  Now that she knew about his lyrium withdraw, she searched his sunken black eyes for a thumping headache.  During her tour yesterday, he caught her watching him from a distance, wearing a concerned look.  The ex-templar fled the grand hall, wishing not to burden her further.  He did not know how to act if she asked more serious questions.  The commander remained in his tower during meal times.  Even at their first advisors meeting that morning, he only spoke when someone asked him a question, keeping himself stoic.  He cowardly evaded eye contact with the mage, fearing seeing Maya standing there instead.

The commander dreamed once when Cullen passed out at his desk earlier that morning as dawn broke.  Luckily, he barred his doors during the night to avoid distractions while writing condolence letters.  He drifted into the Fade almost immediately, seeing Evie standing in that green velvet gown from Redcliffe with her hair down in its wavy curls.  Her back was to Cullen as he walked forward, calling out to her.  She did not respond or move.  Once behind her, he placed his hand on her shoulder, forcing her to turn.  His ambers eyes widen seeing the sunburst brand on her forehead.  Esme echoed in the darkness.  “You did it again.  You failed her.”  Cullen glanced down at his free hand and saw the glowing brand with red templars chanting around them.  Thank the Maker a runner knocked on his door and woke him.

Now, the commander had to find Evie.  The woman had a short fuse.  Typically, Evie would not flee a battle, instead put the bann in his place.  Something was wrong.  The mage may still suffer from the red lyrium poisoning from Envy’s dagger or might have fallen ill again.

Cullen grimaced, reaching for his key ring.  Once finding the proper key, he unlocked his desk drawer, pushing his lyrium philter box to the side and grabbed a cotton bag hidden in the back.  The former templar sighed, rubbing his neck.  He should give it back.  It was too important to keep in his possession.  It was the right thing to do, although he found himself staring at its bright glow for reassuring and peace constantly.

 

* * *

 

The commander could not believe where Evie’s phylactery led him as he tucked the brass circular pendent back into his coat.  He looked at the sea of people around him as workers constructed log cabins and established vendor stands along the path.  The valley below Skyhold became its own town as the refugees began building a new life for themselves.

Unlike the rest of the Frostback Mountains, Skyhold and the surrounding river and valley was warmer, most likely due to geothermal magic rising from beneath the surface.  Dwarven geologist marked numerous metal seams vital for arms and weapons, including valuable silverite.  Timber forests covered the mountain sides, containing rare trees, herbs, and wild game.  Based on Cullen’s research, the location was never recorded on any historical maps despite laying on an old, overgrown path that connected Orlais and Ferelden.  Leliana’s scouts and his soldiers continuously surveyed the landscape to prepare for another attack, finding new caves and underground structures dating back ages.  Dwarven and elven ruins were found nearby.  The alliance mages were drooling for access to record ancient writings.

Cullen weaved around pilgrims and refugees as they travelled to and from the fortress above.  How did Evie come here without being recognized?  The man immediately retracted the question, remembering her ability to sit with the troops the night the cleric assassin stabbed Mother Giselle.  She promised she would not do that again.  What was here that led her away from the castle walls?

The commander reached a growing market square at the flattest point in the valley.  Merchants sold foodstuffs, cloths, tools, and other items in makeshift stands.  Many people wore cloaks, hiding their faces from the bitter cold winter.  Cullen could not find her among the groups of people.

Until he heard a fiddle in the distance.

“Could she have…?”  The commander whispered to himself, following the music to the other side of the square.

A single fiddle player performed by a campfire to a small audience sitting on logs.  Currently, the Ferelden minstrel dressed in fur armor played _Dawn Will Come_ as the seated people sang along.  Cullen circled around the group, keeping his head down to avoid people recognizing him, but kept an ear for the Inquisitor’s voice.  None of the tones matched hers.

Actually, Cullen has never heard the woman sing.  When Evie did emerge from her tent at the refugee camp, she did not sing, only held onto his arm to keep from falling over.  The man grinned, imagining what she sounded like.  Right then, his amber eyes fixated on a cloaked mass sitting alone on a stump a few feet from the campfire.  The person kept their hands under their brown cloak and their eyes behind the hood.  Magic pulsed from the being, feeling familiar to the ex-templar like a warm blanket.

The commander approached slowly from the person’s left side.  He studied the fiddle player as he continued to strum the strings with his bow.  Cullen made sure his voice was low.  “It is not wise to leave the fortress walls…”

The cloaked individual adjusted herself on the stump.  “I’m safe enough.”

Cullen sighed.  “Josephine could not find you.  No one had seen you since this morning.”

“I had to get away.”

“Why here?”

Evie nudged her chin towards the musician.  “I heard him play yesterday when Ser Hugh escorted me around the hamlet.  These people are really making this place their home.”

“They have.”  Cullen kneeled at her side.  “If they recognize you…”

“I had to hear the music again.”  Her voice was rough.  “After that bann…I craved that violin.”

The commander nodded.  “Varric and Dorian told me your magic sounds like a violin.”

The Herald sighed again, pulling the cloak over her chest more.  “The Fade is a symphony to me.  It always has been since I was a little girl.  For me to cast, I move and dance across the battlefield.  Every Fade-touched person is an instrument.  Mine is a violin.”

“Did you play in your youth?”

Evie shook her head.  “No, but I have always wanted to learn.  I fear it might never sound like the music in my heart.”

The mage tilted her head a little, allowing one bright green eye to peak at the commander.  “You know what you sound like…?”

“I make a sound?”

Evie smiled, nodding.  “Well, I guess the lyrium does in your body.  Now that I know you stopped taking it, it makes sense why it’s so soft.  I never noticed it until recently…You’re a fortepiano, playing such a somber piece that would make Andraste weep.  I try to ignore it because it is rude to pry, but sometimes it’s difficult to tune out.  I felt it before hearing your clacking armor from across the square.  It’s so sad.”

“I don’t know why.”  He lied, rubbing his neck and staring at the ground beneath him.

“Well, we’re a duet right now.”  Cullen glanced at the woman as Evie breathed deeply.  “Will you walk back with me?  I…I just need to…I don’t know.”

“Of course, Eve.”  Cullen whispered, offering his hand.  Her linen wrapped marked hand grasped his fingers as they both stood.

The two people took the long way around the settlement to avoid someone recognizing the Inquisitor.  According to Ser High’s report, the populace swarmed her yesterday during the inspection.  The mage kept her hand in his, placing her right on his arm, keeping close to him for safety and warmth.  Cullen could tell she was wearing only a few layers, shivering every so often.  She avoided using her magic to not startle a refugee or pilgrim.

The expanding path back to the Skyhold was a long walk, better suited on horseback, cart, or carriage.  Evie began the walk well, but she struggled on her right leg when the gradient increased.  Cullen moved to her other side, supporting her weight on his arm.  Her bodily form was stronger than two months ago from training with the Iron Bull and the Chargers.  The assault on Haven had done its toll though, and she needed to begin training again to be ready for her next expedition.  Corypheus will not wait long before attacking again.

Half way up the winding path, Evie pulled on Cullen’s arm for him to stop.  The former templar looked down at the woman, noticing she hung her head.  The hood blocked her expression.  “Eve?”

The Inquisitor squeezed his exposed leather between his armor.  “The bann refused to tell me where he was burned.”

Cullen’s amber eyes flickered as he led her to the path’s side to sit on a rock.  There was a gap in the trees, showing the setting sun over the mountains.  “Who, Eve?”

“Rian…”

Cullen swallowed, sitting down beside her.  Evie was willing to speak.  He could not refuse her.  “I…You spoke about him a few days ago and in Redcliffe...I didn’t want to pry, but…”

Evie pulled back her hood, revealing her dark auburn brown hair styled in a single braid laying against her shoulder and chest.  Tears pooled in her eyes.  She wiped them away.  “Here I am crying again…”  She whined, shaking her head.  “It isn’t prying, I know I need to talk about it.  I’ve just…I’m being pulled in so many directions that the fortress I built around my heart and soul keeps tumbling down the longer I am with the Inquisition.  With you, most of all.”

“I’m sorry if I’m…”

Evie shook her head quickly.  “That’s not what I meant.  When I first investigated what happened with Esme and discovered your role, I was frustrated and angry, but for not the reason you may believe.  I thought understanding Esme’s death meant I could find some peace, but…it only rose more pain.  Sorry I’m bringing it up again…You must have lost many friends that day in Kirkwall.”

Cullen grimaced, running his hand through his hair.  “Not really.  I made few friends there, and my family is Ferelden.  I was ready to leave.  I knew the templars and clerics who died, and I was in charge of the search teams and notifying the families.”

“Just like you’re doing now for Haven.” Evie squeezed his arm and gazed upon his pale face.  “Josephine told me.  I guess that might be why I hear that sorrowful piano now.”

“It is not an easy task.”  The commander noted, kicking a stone by his boot.  “Many commanders write generic letters or have their officers handle it.  I want to personally do it and add individual descriptions about their son or daughter, husband or wife.  For many families, that letter is all they have left.  They cherish the words during their time of mourning.  I know that is what I would want for my family if something happened to me.”

“Nothing better happen.”  Evie snapped, studying the man closely.  “I will personally pull you back through the Fade to throw a fireball down your throat.”

Cullen chuckled a few times.  “I don’t plan to, but war is unpredictable.  I pray every day to the Maker as if it’s my last.”

“I wonder if Rian or Esme did that.” Evie whispered, watching the sun fall below the mountains.  The sky turned shades of red, purple, pink, and orange across the winter sky, dusting the clouds with color.  “Anders killed them both.”

Cullen’s amber eyes focused on the woman as she squeezed his arm.  “They both were-“

“-No.  Rian died six years before Esme.  A year after the Blight.”

“How?”  Cullen questioned, thinking through his limited knowledge about the apostate.  “I know he escaped Kinloch, but…”  He froze just speaking that place’s name.  Maya Amell appeared in his mind’s eye.

“The ‘great’ Hero of Ferelden helped him.”  Evie hissed.  Her eyes glimmered as she spoke.  “On one of his escapes, he fled to Amaranthine.  He met an elf who said she knew where his phylactery was in the region.  A templar knight-lieutenant named Rylock found him, demanding the Hero to turn over the mage.  Because of his continuous escapes, it was almost certain he would be made tranquil.  Warden-Commander Cousland conscripted Anders, making him a Grey Warden, thus making his phylactery invalid, but the apostate did not know that at the time.[1]”

Cullen knew Rylock, a forceful and demanding woman.  She refused to take no for an answer, usually pushing apostates to summon demons and defend themselves.  He remembered the day Knight-Commander Greagoir requested her mage-hunting assistance.  The commander struggled a little upon the rock, remembering the security breach when Anders escaped.  He was not on-duty when the apostate swam across Lake Calenhad, but he was stationed inside, while the mage hunters searched the surrounding areas.  His phylactery went dim after a few months, most likely when the healer became a Grey Warden.  Once again, Cullen felt indirectly responsible for the death of someone so important to Evie.

The mage readjusted herself on the rock, moving closer to Cullen.  The man felt her touch though his coat, becoming both uncomfortable and excited at the same time.  “Rylock would not give up.  The templar reached out to any knight in the region who was willing to assist in Anders’ capture.  She contacted my family because of our close relationship with the Guerrin family, thus the new royal family.  Rian responded to the call, acting as an envoy to safely resolve the situation.  I actually encouraged him to go, noticing he hated hanging around the Circle.  He was meant for more than watching over his cousin and pseudo-sister.” 

Evie paused, wetting her lips and preparing herself.  “When Rylock sprung her trap, Anders begged the Hero to defend him.  Alistair argued she was protecting their order, who needed members especially after so many died during the Blight.”

Cullen’s mind returned to the dinner at Redcliffe Castle.  That must be why the king and the Herald were arguing on the balcony.  She requested Alistair to explain why the queen defended a murderer than turn him over to the templars.  Alistair probably knew Rian.  That must have been more painful for Evie knowing a close friend’s relation killed her brother.

 “…Rian was a victim in all of this, his body left in a cellar in Amaranthine City until the local Chantry went to check on Rylock.  The murdered templars were too far decayed and had to burn immediately.”  Evie finished, gripping his arm tightly.

Cullen lifted his right hand and wiped some falling tears from her cheek.  She leaned into his hand, gripping it with her marked hand.  “I’m so sorry, Eve.”

“That’s why my family attempted to poison me just a few days later.”  Evie whispered.  “Rian said he would be back for my Harrowing.  He volunteered to be the templar to cut me down if I became an abomination, although he knew I wouldn’t.  They kept his death from me.  I thought he abandoned me.  It wasn’t until the Chantry explosion did I learn Anders killed them both.”

Evie pulled her head away from his palm.  She gritted her teeth.  “Damn cousins trying to kill me at my Harrowing.  Then fucking Burton…”  She rubbed her shoulder.  “You know why that bastard and my family templars were removed from Ostwick Circle?  After the Chantry explosion, they knocked me unconscious, dragged me to the punishment cellar and whipped me for hours.  They kept making me to confess to crimes I never _could_ do.  I didn’t even know what happened.  They waited for me to pass out, pour a rejuvenation potion over my back, and woke me.  Then, they would start over again.  I was found when I failed to show up to teach my apprentice class…”

Cullen made fists with both hands.  In some ways, he wished that demon had not killed Evie’s cousin so he could break every bone and beat the life out of Burton.  There were at least three other Trevelyan knights in Skyhold he could beat senseless.  It explained her scarred back.  They never gave her a chance to heal, only enough potion to seal the wounds to begin again, thus the layers of lashes.  Suddenly, those lash scars were the most alluring part of Evie because she endured and survived.

“You deserved none of that.”  The commander growled as he stared at the colors encompassing the mountains.

“Down, boy.”

Cullen’s eyes snapped to the giggling woman beside him.  He pinched his nose.  “Please don’t…”

Evie smirked, wiping away the last tears from her eyes.  “Now, now…Did you not get the doggie treats yesterday?”

“You did that!?”  Cullen barked, causing Evie to laugh more.

“I showed Sera how to make cookies.”  She cackled, poking the man in the shoulder.  “They were edible, just bone shaped.  The note was her idea.”

Cullen sighed, running his hand through his hair.  “Maker’s breath.  You know no one is letting me live that down.”

“I find it endearing.”  Evie smiled, tilting her head.  Cullen’s cheeks started to burn as he sunk his head into his mantle.  “I mean, you sniffed me out in the middle of a whole bunch of refugees at dusk.  You get me to tell you my most painful memories, just like a loyal companion.”  She ran her fingers through his bear fur mantle, barely touching his pink cheekbones.  That single touch made Cullen shiver in anticipation.  “You even have the fur for it too.”

Cullen blinked a few times, hoping his disdain came across on his face.  She only laughed louder, causing a passing patrol to stare at them confused.  “If you must know…” He reached into his coat pocket.  He grasped the brass pendent that rubbed against his lucky coin.  “It was this.”  Mentally, Cullen realized he _would_ know her anywhere with her citrus and clove scent, if pressed of course.

Evie’s bright green eyes widen as she took her phylactery back.  Her signet ring was still attached to the chain.  She swallowed, glancing up at him as he spoke.  Cullen spoke first, assuring her.  “Only a few people in your inner circle knew I had it, so you don’t need to worry about possible consequences.  Yet, I’m curious to why it didn’t have any templar wards and barriers.”

Evie smirked a little, twirling the pendent through her hand.  “Esme.  Father, Rian and he spent years locating it.  They had a grand plan to break me out of the Circle and hide me away, especially after…”  She swallowed, pulling her cloak close to her body.  “…When Esme left the White Spire to Kirkwall, he took a detour into the Korcari Wilds and hid it in the Hinterlands.  He sent a secret letter with a map to its location.  Before we left the region last month, Solas accompanied me to the cave, and we dug it up.”

Now it was Cullen’s turn to chuckle, shaking his head in surprise.  Evie stared at him like he was a madman.  “This isn’t funny, Commander.  He could have been expelled from the Order or died in the Wilds!”

“No,” Cullen’s laughter grew.  “I just realized…why he arrived late in Kirkwall.”

“What do you mean?”

The commander felt better knowing how much Evie had been a part of his life before the Conclave.  All these small things that did not matter at the time played important roles now.  The Maker truly guided him to the Inquisition and her specifically.  “I reprimanded him when he arrived, stating he should’ve been there a month before.  He said a pirate ship destroyed his passage across the Waking Sea, so he was forced to travel to Amaranthine.  He must have spent that time searching for this.”

Evie beamed happily, staring at her specialized blood vial.  “Oh Esme…you were always a handful.”  She sighed, allowing the smile to disappear.  “I should do something with it.  I don’t want the enemy or one of my family members getting ahold of it.  Who knows if someone already tried to get it in the Wilds.”

“True.” Cullen concurred.  “It is a security risk.  Your comrades were difficult, asking why I insisted I knew where to find you in the middle of a snowstorm.”

Evie leaned against the man, watching the sky turn grey in front of them.  “Thank you, by the way…for saving my life.”

Cullen nodded, taking her hand and kissing its back.  “It was my honor, Milady.”

Just like before, the mage turned a sweet shade of red, glancing away.  “W-we should…head back…”

“Of course…” Cullen cooed, proud it was his turn to make her shy.  This might turn into a dangerous game between them.  The commander had not right to be so forward with her.

Maya Amell was proof.

The man shook the sickening thought away as soon as he noticed Evie’s eyes studying him.  She bit her lower lip, gazing into his amber eyes.  It was like she knew already, but there was no way she-

-His lyrium.

Evie said his lyrium sounded like a fortepiano.  She heard its melody in the Fade.  Why was it so clear to her now versus in Haven?  Maybe she noticed it before, but did not know until now who it was.  The man felt like he was stripped naked, bare in front of her to see and appraise.  Evie must know he is a broken man with a misfortunate and damning past.  All she needed to do was glance at him and listen.  He could not hid from her gaze anymore.  Evelyn Trevelyan could hear his heart and soul.

Evie walked up to him, placing her hand on his breastplate.  Cullen shuddered at the gesture as a part of him wished he could feel her warmth like that night in Redcliffe.  The other half was relieved he wore his armor as he felt so vulnerable around her now.

“Meet me by the gate at dawn tomorrow.”  Her bright green eyes shined into his with a curl to her lips.  “Please?”

“A-aren’t you travelling to Val Royeaux?”

“We’ll be back before I leave.”  Her voice was tender and soothing.  His mind and body relaxed in her presence.  An unconditional peace echoed through his heart and veins, making her smile grow.  “I want to share this moment with you.”  Evie stepped away, glancing up the mountain path at Skyhold.  “But, we’re riding horses.  Sod this passage.”

Cullen rubbed his neck, genuinely laughing with his whole mind, body, and soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] There is a theory throughout the fan base that the Blight changes a warden’s blood.  For mages who were conscripted from the Circles, this means their phylacteries were made invaded because the Blight changed them.  I like that idea, especially to explain why no one could find Anders in Dragon Age:  Awakening. 


	7. Breaking the Chains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU! I love the love you are sharing. Spread this story to your friends and fellow fans. I love the comments, views, and kudos. You all are keeping me going!
> 
> Chapter Song: "Wings" by Jeff Williams featuring Casey Lee Williams (From the web series RWBY. It's produced by Rooster Teeth. If you don't know the series or the company, check them out. I have followed them since 2005!)
> 
> Story utilizes existing events and conversations from Dragon Age: Inquisition, all owned by Bioware and EA.
> 
> Remember, I am keeping up with the Spotify song lists. Check them out! Make sure to follow the newest playlists. I update them when I post a new chapter!
> 
> I also want to commission some art for this series. Anyone interested or know someone who can help?

Why was it when Evie wanted to do one thing, she always does the _complete_ opposite?

The mage paced along the catwalk above the ornate Orlesian bed in her north tower loft, twirling the silver thimble on her index finger, her sacred lucky charm she always kept in her pocket since fleeing Haven.  She moved a cot with a few blankets to the walk’s back corner, agreeing with Josephine to at least try and sleep there at night.  The ambassador threatened to lock her inside if she sneaked away to the other broken down towers.  A guard was always present at the loft’s entrance, per Cullen’s edicts.  Two of Leliana’s male ravens occupied the lower levels, always acting like they would alert the Nightingale in an emergency.  Their eyes always followed Evie every time she entered and exited the tower from their construction perch on the lower levels.  Evie should feel comfortable there, especially after they return from Val Royeaux, right?

No.  Evie only felt like she could sleep soundly in Cullen’s bed, despite the one time having an envy demon trying to take her shape.  Yes, she was extremely ill when she passed out.  Yes, it was broken and moldy.  Yet, it smelled liked him.  It cradled her like his arms when she cried on his shoulder.  Her mind and body drifted to sleep quickly just knowing he was nearby, even after the commander left to confront the templars’ insubordinates.  Her guard mabari jumped into action, protecting her while she was so weak.

Evie always wanted a mabari, especially visiting Arl Eamon’s kennels when she was a child.  They were intelligent animals who bonded with only one person, lifelong companions that no one could separate.  Queen Asta of Ferelden has a mabari.  So does the Champion Hawke.  Where was _hers?!_

The mage huffed, knowing what everyone’s response would be, mainly Sera’s.  Hers was over six foot tall and has the most delicious scar on his upper lip.  That scar’s gentle caress against the back of her hand made her swoon and beg for more.  Amber eyes that absorbed her magic and ignited emotions in Evie that never existed before.  A husky voice with a Free March touch that rumbled her body every time he laughed.  She wanted to hear all sorts of sounds that voice could make, what she produced with each lingering kiss. 

Evie gripped the banister, hitting her head against the wood a few times.  She could not have feelings for Cullen.  Envy showed her the consequences if she allowed herself to care deeply for the man.  He was her subordinate and supposed _friend._

“Why did I say that!?”  The Inquisitor hollered throughout her tower, kicking a nearby wooden chair.  “Oh, I know!  It was to remind myself that is all he can be.  Build a wall, Evelyn.  You are supposed to be the great Herald of Andraste.  People throughout the world come to Skyhold to serve _your_ Inquisition.  You must be their anchor, the light against the darkness.”  Evie tugged on her loose auburn hair with both fists.  “Argh!”

That is what her inner circle claimed the mage must become.  Warden Blackwall repeatedly basked in her divinity, showering her with praise and reminding her to be the lady the men needed to see.  Varric claimed the kingdoms could tremble in her wake, if she wished.  No, she did not want that.  The Inquisition should be the order in chaos, not a creator.  Kingdoms should work with them, not fear them.  Despite saying she looked a mess and would scare the faithful, Vivienne gave sound advice regarding using her anger to strengthen their army and revenge Haven.  They were at war and must strike the enemy quickly.  They must learn from their miscalculation.  Skyhold gave them that opportunity.  Evie really needed to thank Solas again for his recommendation.  Iron Bull got his wish when she was made Inquisitor.  He always said the organization may flounder without a direct leader.  That was one reason why she accepted the position. 

The advisors agreed that Evelyn Trevelyan was the best candidate.  That meant Cullen agreed with the other three women too.  He believed in her leadership.  Evie struggled with that fact for the last week since her acceptance ceremony.  Cullen knew now how much she was suffered since her birth.  The mage decided to tell someone at some point, but never imagined telling the ex-templar so much in such little time.  He always appeared when she broke down, picking her up and giving her a moment before she went back into the lion’s den.  He was an excellent listener, although he said little in return.  He was a ‘macho’ knight, of course he would not. 

Cullen did say how their lives were deeply entwined.  Esme spoke about Evie to him, despite never seeing his sister in decades.  Those few exchanges remained with the former knight-commander’s mind until the Breach when they finally met.  Cullen always carried her with him, some fragments of information that its significance would not be known until now.

As she looked out through the stain glass windows, it occurred Evie that she did not know much about the commander.  The night sky was like Cullen’s fortepiano’s piece, dark and lonely.  The stars were the small bits of material he slipped while they conversed.  His family is in Ferelden, and he has not seen them since he left for training at age thirteen.  He made very few friends in Kirkwall.  The commander does not sleep either.

Evie’s bright green eyes shifted to his tower across Skyhold.  Renovations continued on the main parts of the fortress.  Most ramparts and bridges were complete.  Gatsi stated the foundation was somewhat unstable, but should not be reinforced.  It settled enough to not cause alarm.  The tavern should be completed when she arrives back from the Orlesian capital.  She wanted to be present for its reveal.  Through those gaping holes in the central tower, she swore she saw candlelight.  The Inquisitor would order the dwarven contractor to fix his holed roof and wall next as a surprise.  The man always worked and never took a break.  Maybe with a repaired tower, he will get a goodnight’s sleep. 

Evie fought the urge to dress and go visit him, asking him more about his life.  Cullen needed sleep and rest.  He stopped taking lyrium.  Exhaustion and stress exacerbated withdraw symptoms.  She already requested multiple books on lyrium’s health effects, although most were based on extensive mage users and addicts.  She may submit a proposal to the alliance mages and see if some templars would be willing participants, especially if other knights followed Cullen’s lead. 

The commander entered foreign territory and was alone in the struggle.  He needed support more than ever.  Evie hoped he would share his burdens, if he suffered greatly.  Parts of Evie was relieved that he no longer drank that horrific stuff that made her family so wealthy.  Her grandfather was not the only Trevelyan to fall prey to its adverse effects.  Some knights committed suicide, remembering countless failed Harrowings.  Many templars served the Chantry and got themselves killed before the dementia and insanity set in.  What would have happened to Rian and Esme if they lived that long for the health effects to begin?

The commander wanted to reclaim his life.  He wanted to break the chains the Chantry grasped so tightly.  Many Circle mages do not realize that there two sets of prisoners in the Circles.  Everyone knew about the mages, but the templars spent _their_ whole lives in those isolated places too.  Many knights never married, and if they wished to, the Chantry could refuse permission.  Many children birthed in the Circles were from templar fathers and mothers.  Although knights and mages were never meant to share one another’s bed, it happened quite often.

Is that why Cullen was so alluring to her?  He knew what the Circles were like.  He lived in them all his adult life.  According to the war, they were supposed to be mortal enemies, but they understood that world the most.  A person cannot explain that entrapment to common people and nobles.  Cullen and Evie shared those similar experiences, just on opposite sides.  Cullen was breaking those chains.  Evie would break hers at dawn, just a few bells away.

Evie jumped off the catwalk and strolled towards the left balcony stain glass door, displaying the Inquisition eye and flaming sword above her head.  She laid the silver thimble on her desk before opening the beautiful door.  The mountain winds brushed her barely clothed body.  Her thin tunic reached her mid-thigh, enough to cover her small clothes.  If a battlement patrol looked up, they would get quite a show.  It did not matter right now.  She reached out with her marked hand over Skyhold, focusing on the Fade’s symphony playing in her soul.

Corypheus did something to the Anchor in Haven.  In his struggle to remove it, the magister stabilized it.  It no longer interacted with her magic.  She gained full control of the Fade’s music, including opening a fade rift over the envy demon.  She did not mean to do it.  Evie simply reached for more mana from the mark following the firestorm.  Her mind, body, and soul completely focused on the symphony swirling in unison during the fight.  The mark flashed and bent to her will.

Following the battle, the Inquisitor confided in Solas about what happened.  He tested something else right then.  They walked Haven prior to the red templar attack, discussing his inner thoughts and concerns before she awoke in the prison.  The vision was clear and crisp.  He then revealed they were in the Fade in _his_ dream.  The Anchor allowed her to visit other people’s dreams.  The strange apostate agreed to train her in Fade-walking when she was ready for that journey.

When Evie awoke and continued her discussion with the apostate, she noticed Orlesian horns blew around him.  When he told her about his explorations into the Fade, the horns were soft and light, accenting his soothing elven voice.  When she asked for his opinion regarding Corypheus, the horns were rough and thundering in her ears.

Trumpets blared around Cassandra.  Every time she raised her voice, the brass instrument hammered against Evie’s ears.  If the seeker was reading, it was a soothing tone that was playful and happy.  It performed dramatic melodies, while her facial expressions remained stolid and unnerving.  For a seeker, Cassandra’s soul expressed her emotions and her love for the Maker, but her exterior remained still and hard as her seeker shield.

Evie figured then that the symphony she heard around her came from her companions.  Sera and Iron Bull were usually soft and more active while they slept with the elf rogue as a pan flute and the Qunari hammering on a bass drum.  Blackwall was a lute despite his reserved behavior, always playing a little tune to himself than sharing with the group.  Varric was silent, which upset the mage because would love to know where she stood with the snarky dwarf...and maybe win a card game for once.  As a dwarf, Varric did not have a Fade connection, thus why his soul was quiet.  The mark allowed her to not only hear her magical violin, but other people’s connections to the Fade. 

Dorian became her test subject a two days ago when he came and visited her.  She began their conversation asking how he sensed his magic, primarily petting his ego until he purred.  She asked for demonstrations of his necromancy abilities, immediately hearing a flute in the distance.  It intensified as he conjured a spell.  Once he casted and burnt his mana, the flute dissipated back into the Fade, weaker than before.  Of course, the Inquisitor told her friend what she discovered about her foreign boon, and they carried on for hours with arcane theories and clever, flirtatious quips.

It was not until Evie toured Skyhold with Josephine did the mage hear the piano solo so light that everyone else almost drowned it out.  Her attention perked, searching the grand hall for the possible sound.  Out of the corner of her right eye, the mage noticed a fur mantle weaving through a sea of nobles from the kitchen to the atrium.  Evie knew she was staring, but she focused her willpower on that fortepiano, hearing its piece in the Fade like a mourning chant.

Cullen caught Evie watching him from across the hall.  He stopped in mid-step and studied her, holding a biscuit in one hand and a report in the other.  His mouth gapped as he blinked.  She bit her lip, realizing she was being intrusive with her newfound ability.  The commander must have sensed her shame because he quickly walked out of the hall back to his tower with his head down.

“That’s why I told him yesterday…”  Evie sighed, lowering her outstretched hand.  She was doing it again, reaching into the Fade for his fortepiano.  He was awake.  She heard the somber melody in the night, highlighted by the remaining lyrium flowing in his blood.  It nearly brought her to tears.  Blackwall once said the commander acted like a man who has seen too much, all the horrors the world offered.  If he survived Kirkwall, yes the commander witnessed damnation itself.

Evie backed away into her loft.  She continuously rubbed her aching temples.  She was in trouble.  Every moment she told herself to remain professional, her heart and soul took ten steps in the other direction.  The mage never felt like this her whole life.  Love was a fairytale dream.  Lust was sex in a library’s dark corners.  Before her magic, Evie was betrothed to Rian.  Although she never harbored romantic feelings for her cousin, she still limited her heart to only him, excited in some ways that they would always be together. 

Evie experimented when she was an apprentice, typically with her friend Almi, who was a few years older than her and more experienced in erotic affairs.  The girls’ dormitory was a gossip’s dream, on par with the Orlesian court.  She learned all different types of sexual talents from the other mages, just never tried them herself.  Very few men and women looked at her romantically or as a quick fling.  She was the friend who listened to the heart’s problems.  Evie preferred it that way.  She could never get married.  She did not want to get pregnant and have the child taken after a birth that could kill her. 

Love and lust were the last things on her mind following her Harrowing.  Rian was dead and no longer protected her from her templar relatives.  She just kept to herself as a form of self-preservation.  She focused on her research and mentoring children, trying to fill the dark holes of her soul with something, anything.

No one must know Evie has these newfound feelings.  In the past when her family discovered her desires, they would use them against her as control or to make her suffer.  In the next months, the Inquisition will venture into Orlesian politics, thus her sister’s realm.  If Patricia or any of her supporters learned about her feelings, they will definitely utilize them against her.  It placed the Inquisition at risk.  Their leader cannot be compromised.  The Trevelyans lurked around her constantly, looking for a weakness to exploit and gain control of the organization. 

“Focus on the Inquisition.  Focus on killing Corypheus and his minions.  Focus on saving Thedas.”  She whispered to herself, pacing around the loft.

“ _Fesill’s been burning sage in the fireplace.  Maybe she can dry my clothes beside it so it will smell like him.  What will I do when I have to leave Skyhold, leave him?_ ”

Evie dropped her hands from her temples, biting her lower lip.  His gongs vibrated through her soul.  “I can’t turn it off, huh Cole?”

The spirit appeared on her desk behind her, playing with her phylactery.  “Why would you want to?  It hurts you.”

The mage pivoted on one foot.  “I must.  I cannot let my selfish heart distract me from the thousands of lives who look at me like a holy prophet.  Everyone’s counting on me.”

Cole tilted his head.  His hat brim bent under the gravity.  “ _Never wanted anything.  Now when I find something,_ someone _that makes me happy, and I have to turn away._   Your flame dims when you turn away.  I won’t see you if your flame is gone, Candle.”

Evie sighed, closing her eyes.  Cole visited her nightly.  She always knew where the spirit was, hearing the vibrations everywhere she went as he followed behind in shadow.  The other Inquisition members told her to send him away, but after he helped her with the envy demon, she could not.  A sense of peace surrounded the boy, especially to the troubled Evie.  She did not have to explain herself to him.  Although, she needed to teach him not to speak everyone’s mind aloud all the time.  Right now thought, he spoke her inner true thoughts and feelings, echoing her internal struggle between what is proper and expected and her own personal wish.

“What do you think of Cullen, Cole?”  Evie whispered, walking over to the boy swinging his legs over her desk’s edge.

The boy looked up at the ceiling.  His white eyes searched for something she could not see.  “He sounds new, echoes of laughter on an empty riverbed.  Not for sailing, but safer…” He blinked, leaning against the mage’s shoulder.  “Templars are heavy with forgotten songs, like Varric.  Some of them are too loud.  It’s hard to stay near them.  Cullen is softer, but demons asked questions that hurt him.”

Evie leaned against the desk.  “What is your opinion of templars then?”

Cole’s head swayed as he kicked his legs.  “Some like hurting mages.  It makes them happy, or less afraid, or…”  His voice intensified as his gong banged in Evie’s ears.  “ _Dreams again, woke up shaking.  Stalking the grounds for one who looks like her.  Always some rule being broken…”_   The spirit relaxed.  “But not all templars listen when whispers crawl around inside them.  They try to protect people.  Like Cullen.  The good ones remember that mages are people.”

The Inquisitor pushed off the desk, rubbing her chin.  The spirit told her what the commander was thinking and feeling at the moment.  She quickly pushed her questions out of her mind, feeling like she was prying again.  However, the spirit was right.  Cullen protected mages now, shielded her during her weak moments.  When he confessed he stopped taking lyrium, Cullen admitted that his past statements about mages were wrong and misguided.  He was trying to atone for his sins, especially since meeting her.

“I am just a means to an end…”  She whispered.  “He only sees me as a mage, not anything else.  His actions reflect that he wants to make up for from previous mistakes.  I allow him to do it.  He says he sees me differently, but it always comes back to templar-mage conundrum.  It makes sense, but…it just _really_ hurts.”

Evie glanced over her shoulder, noticing the smoke dissipating from her desk top.  Cole read her mind to leave her be.  “After dawn tomorrow, I will distance myself.  If I keep this stupid crush going, the Inquisition and I will be the ones lying on the cold, hard ground…”[1]

 

* * *

 

Cullen looked greatly surprised when he entered the stables and saw Evie fastening the final belts on his horse.  Her mount, Griffon, already had both saddlebags for her trip that morning and for Val Royeaux.  Master Dennett, the horse groomers, and Blackwall were nowhere in sight.  She did all the preparation herself.

“Someone is up early this morning.”  The knight cooed from the stable door.

Evie held her breath hearing his husky voice, chanting inside her mind to remain professional.  She glanced over her shoulder with a stoic face, but it quickly morphed to astonishment.  He looked delicious.  The man leaned against the barn door with his arms crossed over his chest.  The late night atmosphere with the burning torches accented all his muscle features.  He grinned that devilish smile that made his scar jump out and captivate her.  Evie quickly looked away, shaking.  Thank the Maker Evie’s bangs hid her blushing as she attempted to regain her breath.

Evie looked again once she steady her heart and racing thoughts.  He did not wear his heavy armor.  He wore a simple tunic under his leather doublet that she always gripped between his plate mail.  Damn the heavens, those leather pants and riding boots accented his fine build.  Sera would be whistling, staring at that fine, firm behind.  His mantle coat laid over one arm.  She wanted to wear it, and only it in his bed snuggled up against him after a _long_ night in each other’s company. 

“I-…”  Evie gripped Griffon’s saddle as she looked away again.  Her bright green eyes focused on the Inquisition sword given to her during the ceremony attached to the saddlebags.  Her heart harden.  “There is a great deal to do today before I leave.  So, sleep is a luxury.”  Her voice was rough and stern, becoming a part of her growing Inquisitor persona.

“I agree with that.”  Cullen sighed.  He walked towards her, his boot crunching on the beds of straw and wooden floor.  Evie could sense exactly where he was, hearing his piano crescendo behind her.  “The condolence letters are complete.  They will be sent out with the runners by midday.”

Evie stopped moving her hands on one saddlebag.  “You okay?”  Her voice shook a little as he appeared in her right eye’s peripheral vision. 

Cullen petted his Ferelden Forder’s nose with his gloved hand.  “I will be relieved when I don’t have to write those damn things again.  Corypheus threatens the world and our men know their duty.  Yet, there will be times we ask them to give their lives for our cause.”

Evie dropped her hands to her sides.  She wore a simple bear suede button down jacket with a tail and knee-high boots over leather pants.  Her hunter green wool cloak hung over Griffon’s saddle, tied to the back for when she needed it.  Her matching scarf tucked into her vest.  It was not her typically rogue-mage armor.  Harritt made it quickly for her trip, asking her for materials in Val Royeaux to build yet another better armor set for missions.  The man groaned when he heard about her armor being ripped to shreds in the Haven attack.  The mage simply told him she lived because of his skill.  He still grunted in frustration.

“I’m failing at my promise, aren’t I?”  Evie whispered, tucking her bangs behind her ear.  Most of her auburn waves were in a series of braids throughout her head and tucked together.

His amber eyes flashed to her, confused.  “What do you mean?”

“At that first advisors meeting…”  Evie pulled her jacket closed.  “You said you feared losing more men before this was over.  I vowed since waking that I would prevent that from happening.  I’m rotten at this.”  She was not just meaning as a leader.

“Haven was not your fault.”  Cullen pinched his nose.  “I knew that it was only a matter of time before something happened.  It was over populated, the weather was making everyone sick, and it would not protect everyone if a battle occurred.  I should have advocated for a new base long before that dragon showed up.  If you hadn’t ordered the civilians out before sealing the Breach, it would have been a massacre.”

Evie’s bright green eyes flickered, hearing the shame in his voice.  “No one expected an archdemon.  Even during the Blight, Denerim suffered from that cruel Old God.  It could have been much worse.  Corypheus could have infected everyone with the Blight.  He still could.  It just means we must find the Grey Wardens to prevent that from happening.”

Cullen nodded.  “I won’t fail you again, Eve.  You have my word.”

Evie ached.  When he called her by name, it was always ‘Eve.’  No one had ever called her that.  In his broad voice, it was the heavens.  “You’ve never failed me, Cullen.  I don’t think you ever can.”

The ex-templar’s face wore a surprised and hopeful expression.  His amber eyes flickered like flames as his piano turned to a major key and seem happier.  “Thank you.”  He cleared his voice.  “Now, what are we doing?”

Evie smirked, mounting Griffon.  “Follow me.”

The two people rode their horses in silence for a while out of Skyhold and down the weaving mountain pass.  Evie led the way at a slow pace.  She recognized quickly that Cullen was not a strong rider, reflective of his years walking in full armor throughout Circles and cities.  Only templar mage-hunters were trained as riders to recover runaway mages.  His lack of experience showed through his sudden wobbles when his stallion walked on a rock or a pothole.

“I can give you pointers, you know?”  Evie smirked, slowing Griffon to walk beside the commander.

“I’m fine.”  Cullen grimaced and pouted.  “It’s just been many years.”

“Did you ride when you were a child?”  The mage felt this was her chance to learn a little more about him.

“No.”  The ex-templar continued to pout as she watched him closely.  “I might have grown up on a farm, but our plow horse was never meant for riding.  She was pretty old by the time I left for training.”

“A farm boy.”  Evie grinned, noticing Cullen sunk his head farther down into his leather collar.  “Where in Ferelden?”

“Honnleath, although my family moved to South Reach during the Blight.  Darkspawn destroyed the hamlet.  They claimed my parents, but my siblings are well.”

Evie winced, noticing Cullen’s strain and his piano turned somber.  “My apologies.  I did not mean to pry.”

“No, it’s fine.” He attempted to smile.  “Many people don’t have fond memories from that time.”

Evie nodded.  “When we heard about the Blight in Ostwick, everyone panicked.  Refugees banged on the city gates for admittance, knowing its thick walls could repeal a darkspawn attack.  It took the teyran many months and much persuasion to allow the people in.  He always fretted that they would spread the sin.  My father horrifically agreed with him.  Not a proud moment for the Trevelyans.”

“Why not?”

“My father’s first wife…” Evie bit her lip.  “She was buried in a mine disaster, captured by darkspawn, and made a broodmother.  The family discovered what happened months later, ventured into the Deep Roads with some Grey Wardens and killed her.”

“Maker...” Cullen exclaimed, pulling at his stubble chin.

“Although their marriage was arranged and they hated each other, my father still felt responsible for her.”  Evie explained, reminded by stories she heard at dinner parties in her youth.  Varric and his brother, Bartrand, were idiots to approach the bann for their Deep Roads expedition.  “My sister was only a few years old.”

“Why was she in the mines?”

Evie shrugged.  “Apparently, she was a very picky person and always felt she had to do everything herself.  She was working just a few hours after Patricia was born, acting like the pregnancy hindered her operations and time.  It’s somewhat explains why my sister is a bitch.”

“I’ve noticed you don’t speak highly of her.”  Cullen commented, tilting his head a little.

“Losing a parent is difficult.”  Evie rubbed her temple with her right hand while still gripping the reigns with her left.  “You know that since you lost yours during the Blight.  However, trying to ruin your father’s second marriage and trying to kill your half siblings is inexcusable.”

Evie went quiet, hanging her head thinking.  “I think I saw Honnleath on our way to the Hinterlands.  On our first trip, the party avoided blighted grounds, but the road led to small hamlets that just had a few standing buildings.”

“You would know Honnleath instantly, although the main town feature walked off with the Hero of Ferelden.”  Cullen grimaced, shuddering a little.

“What?!”

Cullen chuckled a little, causing Evie to almost fall off her horse.  Maker, that laugh will drive her to do anything.  “There used to be a statue in the village square that actually was a stone golem.  Astrid activated it, but it was sentient.  Shale was one of her and Alistair’s party members during the Blight.  The first time I saw it, I almost ran right out of the Circle into Lake Calenhad.”

“Wait.  You served at Kinloch Hold?”  Evie cooed.  Instantly, his relaxed face turned sour and his piano made the most horrific noises. 

“Yes…”  He whispered.  “The Circle had troubles of its own.  I…remained there during the Blight.”

“Oh.”  Evie knew she should end the conversation or change it.  “Just curious after the alliance mages arrived from there.”

Cullen said nothing.

Evie hung her head, trying to block out the questions rolling in her mind.  She already made him uncomfortable twice throughout the small exchange.  He obviously did not want to talk about the Blight and his Circle life.  She figured Kirkwall caused his standoff behavior, but it seemed he struggled many years before that blasted city-state.  Trouble must follow him as much as she.  What a pair they make.

Evie smacked herself in the forehead.

“Maker’s breath, Eve!” Cullen cried, watching a welt form between her eyes.

The mage sheepishly laughed.  “Sorry.  I do that often when my mind wanders.  Cassandra thinks that why I unreasonable sometimes.  I smack common sense out my ears.”

“I would say you might cause a concussion.”

Evie shrugged, pulling Griffon to the right.  They neared the rock she and Cullen sat the day before.  As the woman calculated, the sun early rays started to color the sky across the Frostback Mountains.  Cullen followed her direction, eying the woman as Evie’s face beamed with anticipation.

“You came back here?” Cullen commented as Evie dismounted her horse.

Evie glanced in all direction, covering her bright green eyes looking east to the rising sun.  She dismounted her horse.  “It’s a good spot.  Nice flat boulder, awesome views, and great company.”  She tiled her head to watch his cheeks flash pink a little.

The mage went to her saddle, unsheathing the Inquisition sword.  She unbuttoned her jacket and vest, pulling her phylactery out of her tunic and over her head.  The lit torch in Cullen’s head flashed as he realized what Evie was going to do.  The woman smirked a little, nodding his direction.  He dismounted, leaving his mantle coat on his saddle.

“If I knew this was what you had this in mind, I would have brought my lyrium philter box.”  Cullen smiled approvingly.

“One broken chain at a time, Ser Knight.” Evie giggled, relieved he actually considered breaking that damn box too.  “We will celebrate your achievement when you are ready.  Mine is just a little easier than yours.”

Cullen sighed, rubbing his neck.  “That’s true.”

Evie glanced up and down the path for anyone in the distance.  She slowly walked to the rock overlooking the mountains and valleys.  In one hand was the Inquisition sword, very light and easy to carry.  The dragon hilt was a little much.  The mage wondered how the advisors commissioned it so quickly for the ceremony.  In the other hand, her phylactery glowed and shimmered in the colorful dawn sky.  She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the crisp winter air.  Her life changed drastically in the last months.  She was about to close one chapter and embrace the next. 

Evie’s mind wandered back to the evening before as the landscape captivated her attention.  Speaking about Rian and the abuse she experience had been difficult, but nothing like she thought it would be.  She never talked about those events to anyone.  Yet, her words poured from her mouth like a waterfall yesterday.  There was something about Cullen that allowed her to open the dark corners of her mind and release that hidden anguish.  She thanked the Maker for the former templar’s company.  Although she desired more from their relationship, she would not trade this calm and peace inside her soul for anything.

“Thank you for being here for this.”  Evie whispered, placing her phylactery on the boulder’s surface.

“The honor is mine, Milady.”

Evie took a step back and lifted the dragon hilt sword above her head.  “Wait!”  The mage hopped at his call.  From behind her, two gloves hands grasped hers around the sword.  “Separate your legs a little.  You are going to pitch forward with the sword’s shifting weight.  Hold the hilt like this.”  She steady her legs as instructed as he moved her hands to the proper positions.

Evie held her breath, feeling his body heat through her riding outfit.  He was right behind her, briefly touching her back and shoulders with his chest and solid stomach.  The mage wanted to lean back and absorb his touch.  Sod the sword and the phylactery.  She just wanted his arms around her and hold her in the early morning air.

Cullen must have noticed the Inquisitor was not breathing because he took a few steps back.  “M-my apologies.  I-I just seen too many recruits make the same mistakes.”  The shy, stumbling Chantry boy made his appearance, bringing Evie back to their conversations in Haven so long ago. 

Evie sighed, breathing in his scent that transferred to her jacket.  “No, please.  I don’t want to get hurt.”

Instead of touching her, the commander pointed at her incorrect stance.  “Bend your elbows a little.  Don’t lock them with the sword over your head.  Look at your target, not the pommel.  You need to know where to strike.”

Evie only nodded, wishing he returned back to her side.  He was out of view as she took one last heavy breath.   She hollered at the top of her lungs, thrusting the Inquisition sword down at the boulder and circular vial on top.  The blade shattered the blood vial into a thousand pieces as the brass circle twisted upon impact.  Evie nearly tripped over the cliff edge as the sword vibrated through her arms and bent around the rock.

“Maker’s arse!” Evie cried as Cullen grabbed her around the waist so she would not fall over.  Evie’s shimmering eyes studied the ruined, warped sword in her gloved grasp.  She started panicking.  “Leliana is going to _kill_ me!”

Cullen chuckled deep in his chest as he pulled Evie to a standing position.  The mage bumped into his chest, keeping herself pressed against his hard body longer than she should have.  The man did not seem to care, laughing more.  His piano sang happily into her soul and his rumbles vibrated along her spine.  Evie dropped the sword, grasping his hands on her waist.  The metal clang against the gravel road, causing the commander to freeze and swiftly let go of the Inquisitor.

Evie felt his present leave her again.  She stared down at the bits of glass and blood covering the rock. “Why are you laughing?”  She did not dare look at him, shaking from the sudden cold after his missing body heat evaporated.

“J-just…”  He stuttered from the sudden events, coughing a few times to regain his composure.  “Leliana found that sword in some rubble in Skyhold.  It was a decorative piece.  Don’t fret.”

Evie grimaced, not amused.  “Why did you let me do that if you knew it wasn’t a proper weapon?”

“I like the symbolism.”  Cullen caught her motivations after all.  “Besides, I don’t think your mage arms could handle a proper sword.”

Evie snapped her head towards the ex-templar, pouting.  “I handled a sword just fine in Haven against Corypheus!”

Cullen’s cheeks were bright red with pink flaring throughout his face and down his neck.  He still could not look her in the eye.  One brow perked as he crossed his arms over his chest.  “Is this the same sword you had in your gut that night?”

Evie pouted and waltzed towards Griffon, reaching into her smaller saddlebag.  “The fall did that…just bad steel.  Don’t tell Harritt that.  The smith will strike me with his family hammer!”

Cullen laughed heavily again, shaking his head as the mage turned around holding a large bottle of liquor.  The commander’s cackles dissipated as Evie waved him towards the boulder.  “Drinking this early?”

Evie twirled around, smiling.  “It’s a celebration.  I am now an apostate!  Or do you have a problem with that, Ser Templar?”

The commander rolled his amber eyes.  The rising sun refracted the array of golden colors around his dark pupils.  “As an accessory, we would both be in trouble if still under the old system.”

“Good thing we are making a new world, huh?”  Evie cooed.  The mage uncorked the bottle as Cullen joined her by the boulder.  She snapped her fingers.  “Sod it!  I forgot cups!   Oh well!”  She took a huge gulp, smacking her lips together upon swallowing.  “Not bad.  No wonder Dennet had it.”  She shoved the bottle at the commander, smirking.

The commander stared at her alarmed for a few moments.  He finally grasped the bottle, smelling the contents.  “What’s this?”

“Carnal, 8:69 Blessed.”  She sang, watching the rising sun over the Frostbacks.  “Dennet gave it to me after he refused to assist the Inquisition outright.  Krem asked me if there was anything I wanted the Chargers to find in Haven.  I said my booze collection, a hobby I’ve enjoyed the last few months.  After they searched Haven and returned, he surprised me with my whole collection, chilled from the snowdrifts.  Now I just need to find a place to hide the stuff.  Varric, Sera, Iron Bull, and Dorian have been hounding me for a taste test since I started this.  Don’t tell them I shared any.  I won’t hear the end of it.”

Cullen coughed a little following his swig of liquor.  “Not exactly my taste, but it works for the occasion.”  He cackled, handing the bottle back.

Evie blushed a little, realizing she would be indirectly kissing Cullen with her next drink.  It was as close she was going to get, enjoying the moment with her lips on the opening for a few seconds as she guzzled the liquor.  Once she lowered the bottle, her lips curled at the small additional taste she noticed in the fermented liquid.  She imagined that was what he tasted like, only wanting to sample more from him directly.  In silence, she nudged the bottle back to him.  She must burn this to memory, cherish it like this precious moment.

The commander shook his head no.  “I cannot go to drills smelling like a tavern.”

Evie huffed, downing the contents more to hide her hurt expression.  “One day, sir, you and I will have a drinking contest.  Got to burn that templar frost of yours!”

“Says the alcoholic.”  Cullen joked.

Evie threw him a look.  “You have to admit it to be one, thank you!”  She took another swig.  She swallowed.  Her eyes shifted to the bent sword on the ground.  “Teach me how to use a sword.”

Evie heard his gasp as he wavered to respond.  “I-I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

The mage rolled her eyes.  “Facing Corypheus, my mana was depleted.  The dragon scorched my staff.  I was alone.  He threw me against the trebuchet.  A dead soldier’s sword laid beside the broken release mechanism.  I cut the rope instead.  That sword saved my life _and_ almost killed me.”  She turned to Cullen, whose mouth fell open.  “I told you that day by the lake that if I knew how to use a bow or sword, I would have used that instead of my magic hunting.  So, Commander, teach me.”

Cullen ran his fingers through his hair, sighing.  “What about Cassandra or Blackwall?”

“I don’t trust them.  I trust you.”  Evie hissed.  She took another drink.  A few drops of liquor dripped from her lips.  She edged herself closer towards him on the boulder, staring up into his amber eyes.  “I will be facing red templars, your once brothers.  I’m scared shitless because they will smite and silence me.  You know I fall unconscious when I’m silenced.  I need to know how to fight a templar.  Cassandra’s a seeker with very different skill set.  Blackwall is too quiet about his past.  I asked him yesterday why he stayed in Skyhold during the Blight.[2]  He didn’t know what I was talking about.”  She gripped the bottle tightly.  “I _trust_ you, Cullen.”

The commander’s eyes widen from Evie’s statements.  He knew the gravity of her saying she trusted him.  He saved her life countless times already, protecting her when she was weak and standing beside her when she was strong.  Even if she never showed her feelings, she will trust him more than anyone else ever.

Cullen grabbed the carnal bottle out of her hands, gulping several mouth full of liquor before pulling the rim from his lips.  “Alright.  I won’t go easy on you.”

“If you did, I would set you ablaze.”

The man laughed with Evie as they sat the boulder, enjoying the rising sun’s colors over the mountains and a new moment in their friendship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] A reference to Taylor Swift’s song “I Knew You Were Trouble.”  Very applicable to Cullen and Evie’s relationship at the moment!
> 
> [2] See codex:  "A Fine Time to Close a Border" written by Warden-Constable Blackwall found in Skyhold's Rookery
> 
> We're finally getting to the good stuff...Thank you for being patient.
> 
> Evie's references to the first time they met and the first advisors meetings are from Chapter 2 and 4 of "A Safe Haven".
> 
> I hope you all agree with my final pairing of instruments. I took a few of your suggestions and changed accordingly. I made Cullen a piano because it has such range of expression, like a violin (or viola, which I played for most of my younger life.) Most pieces have a piano-violin duet, so it works well for Evie and Cullen. I hope you approve. :)


	8. In Love and Honor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the 500 views!!! AHHH!!!
> 
> Not my best writing, but here it is!
> 
> Chapter Song: “Le quattro stagioni (The Four Seasons)” By Antonio Vivaldi (I love all twelve movements, especially Autumn!)

“Ugh!”  A Nevarran short haired woman huffed behind her left-side half mask.  She pulled at her tight leather collar as her cheek twitched against the silver mask.  “How did you talk me into this!?”

A golden ornate mask that concealed an accompanied woman’s defined cheekbones,  glancing back at the Nevarran wearing a full black leather suit with silver trimming and dragon embroidery.  Her flowing red dress ruffled down the skirt and sheer off-shoulder straps connected with a sweet heart corset.  The woman fluttered a fan made of golden feathers in front of her face.

“This is for our grand guest.” The woman’s Antivan accent cooed, glancing at the lady leading the group through the theatre main hall.  “Although the symphony left Val Royeaux earlier in the week, she wished to see _Tristen and Iseult_ instead, so be on your best behavior!”

The Nevarran’s eyes widen, throwing the red head to her left a look.  “ _Tristen and Iseult!_   The tale about the woman with a knight and forced to marry his king!?”[1]

The red head’s emerald green gown was the most revealing out of the four women with a low v-neckline and low, swooping back showing off her fair Orlesian skin.  Her short hair was styled with multiple jewels and waves attached to her full green sparkling mask.  Her main accessory was her pointed silk heels with similar jewels as her hair and ears.  She tittered behind her silk fan as men and women whispered to one another.  Her role to keep attention on her rather than their important guest was working.

“The very one.”  The redhead purred, watching that audience that loitered around the Orlesian capital’s theatre entrance way.  In the distance, she witness her spies weaving through the crowds, watching for threats and gathering intelligence for the Inquisition.

The lead woman glided like a queen across the theatre house’s main entry.  Her auburn brown hair was down over her shoulders, while her bangs were held back by a single jeweled silk headband.  Her dress was more conservative than the other women would have preferred.  The four women argued for at least two bells in the gown shop that afternoon, showing their leader different styles that would flatter her beautiful figure.  The lady demanded no dresses to show her scarred back, relenting finally to wear one with such a low v-neckline with long sheer lace sleeves with built in gloves.  The dress was not Orlesian styled, but mirrored Fereldan and Antivan cuts.  The nobles attending the theater that night would not like the gown, most likely review it as bad taste. 

However, the women liked how it fit their special maiden.  The cobalt blue chiffon dress waved around the special woman like the winter breeze outside.  It was loose, but accented her curvy body.  Most of the lace and silverite metal mask covered her bright green eyes, one of her two extremely defining features.  Attention was directed away from her eyes to the accented peacock feathers around the mask and on her large fan.  The women joked in their carriage that the peacock feathers were from Chancellor Roderick, until all felt bad about his unfortunate and heroic death at Haven.  The main lady stated he would be honored in Skyhold’s garden by a specially-crafted plaque she commissioned with a local bronze smith earlier.

“My, I never figured you a romantic…”  The lead woman smiled.  She changed her accent to sound more exotic.

The first woman and the only one not in a gown panted a little, shielding her exposed eye from their guest.  “I just enjoy a good story.”

“Yes,” The red head laughed, waving her fan in front of her face.  “That is why you read those smut books by Varric all the time.”

The other three women gasped as they were escorted to their seats in a private box high above the rest of the theatre.  The first woman smacked the redhead’s arm.  “Leliana!  You promised to never tell anyone!”

The Antivan threw her a look.  The lead woman chuckled.  “You’re a _Swords and Shields_ fan, Seeker?”

The Antivan’s brown eyes grew as she smacked the leading lady with her fan.  “We are supposed to be incognito.  We did not spend three bells dressing like this without purpose.  You were so worried someone might recognize you!”

Leliana smirked.  “Don’t fret, Josie.  My spies are in position if something happens.  They planned on being here anyway gathering intelligence regarding the Imperial Court.  It is opening night after all.”

The four women arrived in Val Royeaux that morning, enjoying their two days away from the fortress.  As Josephine promised, they selected new furniture for Evie’s loft, requested new dining seating for the grand hall.  The ambassador and Inquisitor dropped off designs and chose fabric for the grand hall’s curtains and the castle’s banners.  Cassandra and Evie spent at least two bells in a bookstore.  The mage ordered over fifty books for the library and opened an account for more in the future.  Leliana caught the seeker reviewing the romance novels, thus why she knew the warrior’s preferred reading.  Leliana started resupplying her shoe collection while Evie chose suits, riding coats, gowns, and everyday dresses to wear around Skyhold.  Josephine apologized continuously for misreading the dates the symphony was in the capital, reserving seats in the most exclusive private box in the theatre house for the romantic play, _Tristen and Iseult_. 

“Just as long as my sister is not here.”  Evie hissed, relieved when the usher, a secret Inquisition soldier, opened the door to their private box left of the stage.

“She is in the countryside at the moment.”  Leliana informed the worried woman, curtsying to the usher as Cassandra tipped the man.  “Something about troubles with peasants.”

Evie rolled her eyes as she moved her chiffon skirt around her seat.  She took the first seat by the railing to the ambassador’s right.  “Probably rebelling.  We should fund them.  _I_ should fund them.  Maybe they will take care of her for me.”

 Leliana smirked as the Antivan ambassador threw their Inquisitor a look.  “I told you Leliana and I would make sure she did not interfere with our business.  There is no need to assassinate her.  We would be no better than her in Haven.”

“Although I like how the Inquisitor’s mind works.”  Leliana giggled, meeting the mage’s curled lips and shimmering eyes.

“Ugh!”  Cassandra pulled off her mask.  She rubbed her tan scarred cheek.

“Someone could see you!”  Josephine waved, panicking.

Cassandra glanced over the box’s railing in front of Evie.  They were at least fifty feet up in the air.  “We’re fine, Josephine.  I might scream if I wore that thing any longer.  Thank goodness this is a heart-wrenching tale of forbidden love, or I would march right back to your family’s townhouse.”

“I want to know your favorite _Swords and Shields_ chapter…”  Evie cackled, looking back at the seeker seated behind her with a devilish grin.

“You _read_ that smut!?”  The Nevarran called, shocked by the realization.

Evie glanced away, avoiding Cassandra’s dismay.  “The Circle was lonely, and no one was interested in me…”

Leliana eyed the Inquisitor closely, smirking.  “No one caught your eye?”

Evie pulled at her dress sleeves, concealing any exposed skin as much as possible.  “The last time someone caught my eye, something horrible happened, so I’m my own best friend.”

“What about our fine commander?”

The mage did a double take, blushing behind her mask and quickly covered her lower face with her fan.  “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

The three other women shook their heads and rolled their eyes.  Josephine was first to speak.  “The man would fall on a blade for you, Evelyn.  Everyone is calling him the ‘Inquisitor’s Mabari.’  If someone insults you, he is barking all the way from his tower.”

“Sera…”  Evie hissed, rubbing her temples.  “So, he’s protective.  So what?”

“So, is that why you two watched the sunrise together yesterday morning?”  Leliana poked, her left shoulder.  Cassandra gasped and clapped her gloved havds a few times.  Evie could hear her seat squeak as she bounced happily.

Evie threw her peacock fan at the spymaster.  “You had me followed?!”

“I always have the advisors followed, remember?” Sister Nightingale tossed the fan back, grinning mischievously.  “I receive daily reports on what happens in our dear Skyhold.”

Evie crossed her arms over chest after retrieving her fan from the carpet floor.  “We were out there taking care of something, thank you!  The commander returned an item, and I was getting rid of it for security purposes.”

“Along with sharing a Carnal together.”

Evie sighed as Cassandra grasped her shoulders behind her.  “How romantic!  Did you kiss?!”

The mage tried to wiggle away from the seeker.  “Maker, no!  We’re friends, just like I thought you all were!  Sodding spying on me and making something sound like it isn’t.”

Josephine tilted her head.  Her black curls fell away from her gold mask.  “Evelyn, we are just teasing.  Besides, it is not too difficult to picture you and the commander together.  You bought that chess set for him after all.”

“He plays?”  Evie quizzed, blinking a few times.

“You didn’t know?”  Cassandra remarked, stilling beaming from the news.

Evie shook her head, causing her auburn hair to bat her cheeks.  “I bought that set because I heard there was a chess tournament occurring while we were gone.  Everyone was upset that I wouldn’t open the tavern until I returned so Dorian organized a chess match in the garden.  I figured to get that huge set for the gazebo.  I know we spoke about making it a place to pray and contemplate Andraste and the Maker’s will, but I also wish it to be a peaceful place to relax and enjoy one another’s company.”

“Is that why you chose that set with all the different kingdoms?”  Cassandra asked, remembering seeing the multiple figures and races in the toy store window earlier.

“If I only got the Orlesian-Ferelden set, no one would play Orlais.”  Evie received the evil eye from both Josephine and Leliana, while Cassandra laughed a few times.  The Inquisitor cleared her throat, thinking fast.  “I commissioned the sculptor to make a Corypheus-Inquisition set.  I know no one will play as the magister, but it will get a good laugh on the shelf.  Each advisor is an important piece:  Cassandra is a rook, Leliana and Josephine are the bishops, Cullen a knight, etc.  Of course, I will play the Free Marches set.”

“So you play?”  Leliana’s accent lilted like she was suspecting something.  “I can see it now.  The great war between the Fire Mage of the Free Marches and the Templar Knight of Ferelden.”

“And here I thought I pushed the conversation _away_ from him…”  Evie huffed.

Cassandra sighed, leaning over Evie’s theatre seat to see the woman pouting.  “Why is this such a difficult image for you?”

“I am the Inquisitor.  I must focus on the war.”  Evie met the Nevarren’s espresso eyes.  “I cannot be distracted.”

“Duty is fine, Evie.”  Leliana cooed from beside Cassandra.  “But even in the worst moments, you cannot carry everything yourself.  Look at Astrid and Alistair.  They were quite an item during the Blight.”

“They were both Grey Wardens!  The only ones actually!”  Evie called, causing some heads to turn towards their booth.  Thank goodness the play have not started yet.  “I am the Inquisitor!  I am the only one who can close rifts.  People follow me like a divine beacon.  I have to be perfect.  You know, that _same_ perfect image you and Josephine hype all the time throughout Thedas.”

“I will admit not everyone agreed with Alistair and Astrid’s relationship.”  Leliana reflected back ten years ago.  “Wynne told them they were being irresponsible.”

“I agree.”  Evie sneered, not liking the whole conversation’s tone.  It meant more people than she saw something forming between the commander and her.  If they noticed, that meant her enemies knew too.

“But the healing mage admitted she was wrong.”  Leliana snapped.  “Wynne realized they carried the mantle for all of Ferelden.  It turned out well for both of them too.”

“You mean a queen who left her country and the warden command?”  Evie insulted, causing Leliana to lean back and sulk in her seat.

Evie did not know much about Leliana and her connection to the Hero Queen of Ferelden.  In the short conversations the two had in Haven, the spymaster admitted the warden was her closest friend, and she could trust her with anything.  Yet, every time someone brought up that the queen was missing, Leliana shrank and went quiet.  Her eyes searched for answers, while throwing daggers at the person who reminded her that her friend was missing.  Evie did not hide her disdain toward the Warden Queen.  The warrior killed her cousin for a man who betrayed her just months later.  The spymaster probably already knew about it with her sources, yet she still continuously defended the murderer.

“I think what Leliana is implying that happiness is rare to find.”  Cassandra glanced back at the door, surprised that a servant came in with refreshments.  The warrior threw a look at the spymaster who gave a thumbs up.

“He is one of ours.”  Leliana smirked, taking a flute of champagne from the tray.  She glanced at the elf as the others took their glasses.  “Report?”

“Quiet, Nightingale.” The elf man whispered.  “Too quiet.  Charter is sweeping the grounds.  We have collected minor gossip, but we are surprised by the lack of information people are saying about the Inquisition and the Imperial Court.”

“We are missing something.”  Leliana snapped in her low, emotionless tone.  “Find it.”

“Yes, Sister Nightingale.”  The elf bowed to the ladies and left the box quickly.

“Always working.”  Josephine commented, glancing down at the stage.  Almost everyone in the auidence was seated.

“After Evie and I found that Tevinter slaver’s home trashed, my network has been busy piecing together what happened and who Calperina is.  We located her former lover in Ferelden, a mage assassin named Marius.  He and his associate, Tessa, will be good allies for the Inquisition.  They have been fighting the Venatori since the Archon hired them.”[2]

“Won’t that be a security risk?”  Evie believed, thinking about having an archon agent within their ranks.

“Marius failed to kill Calpernia before, but since the Breach opened, his resolve to stop her and the Venatori has solidified.  Charter is working with them at a distance to avoid possible conflicts of interest.”  Leliana informed, understanding the Inquisitor’s concern.

“We just need someone who knows what to do with that memory crystal.  We need an expert we can trust, not someone outside the Inquisition.”  Evie remarked, rubbing her chin.  “Anyone I would have recommended from the Circles didn’t survive the war.”

“I know someone.”  Josephine sang, pointing her index finger upwards.  “An arcanist who would be beneficial in that task as well as working with Harritt.  I think if you destroy one more suit of armor, Evelyn, the blacksmith might jump off the Undercroft’s waterfall.”

“Hire the person.  Immediately.”

“It will be difficult bringing her to Skyhold, though.”

Leliana perked up.  “I will handle it.  I know her well from the Blight.  She has several assassins on her tail and no noble wants her within their lands.  I will sneak her in.”

Evie nodded.  “The more we know who we are dealing with, the better.  Cullen is tracking down whose supplying the red templars.  Send me a direction, and I will kick magister’s arse.  I’m ready to get back out in the field, especially away from _some_ people’s gazes.”

“First, Varric’s friend.”  Josephine reminded the group.

Cassandra gripped her seat arms tightly.  “That little shit…”

“Let me be there when you beat him, Cassandra.” Evie giggled.  “The dwarf cheated me out of ten sovereigns.”

“Well, you stink at Dimondback, Inquisitor.”  Josephine remarked, receiving a burning glare from the mage.

“I’m better at that than Wicked Grace!”

“Maybe your luck will change playing chess?  I think the commander may even let you win?”  Cassandra poked again, getting a more intense scowl and an obscene gesture from Evie.

“The contact arrives in Skyhold tomorrow afternoon.”  Leliana confirmed, sipping her drink.  “We’ll place the informants in one of the towers.  Apparently, they wish to keep their identities secret until they speak to Evie.”

“For Varric, no doubt.” Cassandra grunted, noticing the stage torches being snuffed out.

“I believe the commander was the reason.”

Evie froze, wishing she could look back at the spymaster, but Josephine hissed at the women to remain silence as the red curtain rose.  Why would the contact be an issue for Cullen?  Her heart became heavy in her cobalt chiffon gown.  It took her entire willpower not to jump out of her seat, retrieve Griffon, and ride straight back to Skyhold.

An echoing clap rang through the private box as Evie slapped her forehead, wincing behind her peacock mask.  Cassandra giggled a little behind her.  Josephine shushed her immediately.

Maker Above!  She had it _bad!_

 

* * *

 

“I will not cry, okay?”  Cassandra hissed, waving away the forming tears smudging her eye kohl.  Evie giggled at the seeker devilishly.  Her mask laid in her lap, while her bright green eyes peaked over the theater seat chair. 

“You nearly jumped off the balcony when Tristen revealed he was serving King Mark in the tournament.”  Evie cackled, crouching behind her theater seat as the seeker attempted to bat her wicked grin away.

Intermission came before the women realized.  Between the four ladies, three bottles of champagne and a full tray of strange Orlesian cakes were gone before the torches were lit for the short break.  Evie claimed at least one bottle for herself, mumbling under her breath as the play rose feelings inside her.  Leliana noticed her struggle immediately during the tournament as Iseult watched her love fight for her hand in marriage.  She might have been teasing Cassandra, but it was her emotions that truly captivated their private box.

Josephine leaned towards the spymaster, noticing how the Inquisitor swayed a little in her chair and her manners disappeared.  “We need keep the alcohol down to a minimum.  The Inquisitor may make a scene…”

“He watched as she married another!”  Cassandra hollered, grabbing her chest.  “He should have told everyone she was his!”

“And you’re a woman of duty and honor!?”  Evie snapped, surprised by the woman’s exclamation.

“You cannot be that heartless, Trevelyan.”  The seeker hissed.  “Does that mean you agree with this?  Just like you agreed to marry your cousin.”

Leliana and Josephine glanced at one another, then at the Inquisitor who looked like she was going to set Cassandra on fire.  Right as Evie opened her mouth to yell, a soothing kind voice echoed from the private booth’s door.

“I told Ian it was a terrible idea.  Thank goodness Rian agreed.  In Evie’s defense, she was only a year old.”

Evie’s blazing fury dissipated as she jumped from her theater seat and into someone’s arms behind them.  “Philliam!”

Leliana grinned, pleased the bard received her message.  “You’re late, Good Sir.”

A balding, white bearded man walked forward with his grandniece beside him.  He was a little over six feet tall and looked like he belonged with the highest nobles of Orlais.  He wore a ruffled white blouse under a dark navy tailed suit, matching Evie perfectly, as Leliana figured he would.  He bowed to the other women in the box like a true gentlemen.  “My sincere apologies, my ladies, but I was held up.”

Evie kissed the man’s cheek several times, giggling happily.  “When Leliana told me she reached out to you, I almost cried.  I am so sorry, Philliam, for my horrible behavior last time.  I owe you whatever those nasty drinks were…”

“My Phoenix, the lipstick on your lips costs more than that volatile swill.”  He sniffed her breath.  “But I will take a bottle of that exquisite champagne you are drinking.”  Evie clapped and hopped in place, rushing to the door for a new bottle.  Josephine did not get a chance to stop the tippy mage leaving without her mask.

Philliam bowed to the spymaster, kissing her gloved hand.  “Lady Nightingale, Val Royeaux has been naked without your stunning face and angelic voice.”

Leliana nodded, smirking.  “They had you, Good Sir.  No woman or man are lonely in your presence.”

“Who _is_ this?”

Both the gentleman and Leliana glanced at the eying Nevarran to Leliana’s right.  Philliam bowed again, reaching for Cassandra’s hand.  “My deepest apologies, Seeker.  I only wished to greet my old friend before stating you the most enchanting eyes in all the kingdoms.  Your lover must be the happiest man alive.”

Cassandra’s expression shifted from disdain to surprise.  “I-I do not have a lover.”

“No yet, at least, for your beauty would send thousands of ships to sea to fight in your name.”

The seeker blushed, covering her mouth in happiness.  “I-I am not Helen of Troy!”

“You sure?”

Cassandra gripped her theater chair in sheer happiness and disbelief as the bard turned his attention to Josephine.  Leliana enjoyed the show Cassandra displayed, but her smile disappeared seeing how frighten the ambassador seem in her seat as the older man came into the light.  She kept her fan in front of her face and pulled on her curls to cover her whole body.

Philliam noticed as well, bowing again and reached out his gloved hand.  “But where are my manners.  I am Philliam Anton Trevelyan: bard, writer, and a man enchanted by your exotic beauty.  You must be Lady Josephine Montilyet.  It is the grandest pleasure to meet you.”

Josephine refused his hand, standing up.  “I-I better go see if Evelyn needs any assistance…”  The Antivan rushed out of the theater box, pushing Philliam to the side and nearly tripped on her dress hem. 

Leliana stood up, throwing the famous bard a look.  He shrugged, moving out of her way so she may follow her friend.  “Before you go, Nightingale, do tell your network that a Venatori assassin’s body is in the coat closet…and to investigate the kitchens for a potential mole.  I would dispose of the body myself, but I know you prefer to review the corpses before dumping them in the river.”

“Thank you.” Leliana’s Orlesian accent was stern as she turned away for the hallway.

Right as the spymaster was exiting, Evie reappeared with two bottle of champagne in each hand.  “Everything okay?”

Leliana smiled, patting the happy Inquisitor on the shoulder.  “Nothing I cannot handle.”

It took the redhead a few minutes to sniff out her Antivan friend, discovering her leaning against a wall in the dark corner of the stairwell.  Leliana knocked on the wall to alert the woman of her presence.  She continued forward until she stood in front of Josephine.  The ambassador held a handkerchief to her mouth, holding back sobs.

“Josie?”

“Did you invite him?” The Antivan whimpered.

“Evie wanted to see him while we were in the capital.  I thought the theatre would be the least suspicious place.”  Leliana informed her friend as she shook and dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief.

“I never believed the rumors…”   Josephine whispered from behind her silk handkerchief.  “I thought it could not be the same person.  A Trevelyan?  A bard?”

“I thought you knew.”  The spymaster exclaimed, eying her frightened friend.  “After all, we met him many times, Josie.”

“Yes, but…just…after so long.”  Josephine sobbed, leaning against the redhead.  Leliana wrapped her arms around her friend, swaying back and forth in the darkness as she cried into her shoulder.  “Everything will be okay…You’re safe, I swear it.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] "Tristan and Iseult" is an old Anglo-Norman tale inspired by Celtic legend based on King Arthur’s knight, Tristan, and his love for an Irish princess named Iseult. It is older and similar to "Romeo and Juliet."
> 
> [2] Marius and Tessa are part of the "Dragon Age: Mage Hunter" Comics
> 
> Semi-inspiration for Evie's gown:
> 
> <https://thejeeperswife.tumblr.com/post/170433755129/inspiration-of-evirs-gown-and-mask-in-part-2>


	9. Uninvited

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I am bummed out right now. I read other fan fictions on this site, and I stumbled upon a fiction very similar to what I am writing and had planned for the future parts. I am going into more detail and involving different aspects and characters, but I do not want to encroach on other people's writing and ideas. I hate people who plagiarize, and I avoid it like the plague. I do not know what to do. I am so crushed that I somewhat want to give up writing this. I do not want to be accused of stealing people's ideas, and would rather give up than have that happen. Any suggestions? I am shifting some plans, but many have been set up since the first chapter. I love this story and do not want to stop, but what can I do without destroying everything I established?! :(
> 
> Chapter Song: "Uninvited" by Alanis Morissette (Even having a playlist stuff is similar. The other work titles their chapters with song titles. UGH!)

Once again, everything was falling apart.

Cullen finally received a response from Leliana that the four women were only a few leagues away.  The commander knew the female advisors travelled to Val Royeaux for a few days of relaxation and fun despite disguising their excursion as a work trip.  Evie deserved some time away, especially after all that happened.  However, he received several reports that required the whole upper leadership.  The Inquisitor will not be happy.

Cullen pinched his nose, pushing the grand hall’s door to the atrium open.  It was only the first bell of the midday and all he wanted to do was lock himself in his tower and scream.  He ignored Solas, thankful the apostate slept on his couch and did not see his troubled face.  If anyone from the library noticed his frustration, they kept their opinions to themselves.

Almost everything was going to according to plan.  Skyhold’s renovations were on schedule.  His veteran officers trained the new recruits, mostly volunteers who responded to the Inquisition’s call following Haven.  Leliana’s scouts narrowed the red lyrium smuggler’s trade route to the Emerald Graves.  The loitering nobles left him alone.

Then a raven arrived in the night from Ser Hugh, now one of his commanding captains.  A contingent of Inquisition templars were escorting the Venatori prisoners from Redcliffe to Skyhold for judgement.  An ambush attacked the caravan and freed six Venatori members, escaping into the darkness.  Dorian informed the commander that some mutual contacts informed him three former colleagues were involved in the escape, his once acquaintances.[1]  Cullen suspected the Tevinter mage maybe involved.  However, Leliana’s sources stated the Venatori sent assassins to execute Dorian.  Just another victim and target that Cullen needed to protect.

Thankfully, the spymaster transported Alexius Gereon with a different group, disguised as a refugee party, hidden openly not to raise suspicion.  The former magister just arrived moments before, causing the commander to drop what he was doing and personally secure the former magister to the underground prison.  The commander chose specific guards to man the prison because people threatened to kill the mage for the attack on Haven.  Alexius’ son, Felix, accompanied him, not confined like his father, but did travel by cart.  He was deathly ill.  Dorian stated he would treat the man himself, not telling Cullen what he suffered from, but assured Skyhold is safe from infection. 

The commander knew that ashen skin and black eyes anywhere.  He observed several hundred people like that ten years ago.  Felix suffered from the Blight.  Cullen sent Blackwall to assist Dorian, wishing at least one Grey Warden present just in case the man turned feral.  The advisors needed a contingency plan to handle the Blight, especially if Corypheus’ dragon was an archdemon.  Cullen will personally write Alistair for assistance as the king was the only other known Grey Warden in southern Thedas.  Maybe Evie could convince the monarch to disclose where his warden-commander wife may be to avoid a sixth darkspawn invasion.

Meanwhile, an Avvar chief assaulted the castle this morning.  Maybe ‘assault’ was not the best term.  More like smeared goat entrails across the new fortress walls by throwing the animals across the deep, empty moat around Skyhold.  The primal man was huge and did not struggled when the guards arrested him.  The barbarian laughed as he watched alliance mages casted spraying water to remove the blood, amused by their disgusted faces.  Evie will think it hilarious until the smell hits her.  Josephine will be horrified because all incoming envoys will see the mess.

Cullen shook his head.  Of all days for those women to be gone.  Josephine was right that he was frustrated every time they interrupted his work with some nonsense or complaint.  Now that the War Council’s women members were gone, he could not focus on his own work without another problem arising.  Evie will burn everything down, kill every rat creature within one-hundred leagues, and yell for bells once she hears the news.

Evie.  Eve.  Cullen pulled at his chin, rubbing his two-day stubble as his mind wondered back to his personal moments with the Inquisitor.  She flowed through his mind all the time, distracting him when he could actually sit and work.  After accompanying her to break her phylactery, he did show up to drills a little tippy from the shared Carnal, beaming ear-to-ear.  He tasted her on the bottle lip, surprised at first by her bold offer.  He enjoyed the sweet taste, imaging drinking such bless for hours.  Cullen wanted to drop the bottle and kiss her deeply to convey the strong feelings he attempted to hide inside.  His heart felt heavy watching her ride out of Skyhold with the ambassador, seeker, and spymaster later that morning. 

Evie’s orange and clove scent lingered on his doublet and tunic for the rest of that day.  He surprised himself when he grasped her hands around the Inquisition sword.  It was instinct.  Yet, he never did that with his recruits.  He smelled her soap and oils in the mountain breeze as she raised the weapon over her head.  His hungrily pounced to embrace her, holding her hips.  He noticed she was not breathing, thus making her nervous.  He backed away to only catch her again after the sword bent over the boulder.  That time, she leaned against him.  Regrettably, Cullen wished he directed her chin towards his lips and kissed her.   Her body language stated she wanted it…or was that just hopeful imagination?

 Cullen suffered from no withdraw symptoms that day, now consciously aware that migraines or tremors disappeared in her presence.  She became his medicine.  She made the addiction easy and manageable.  If he could keep her with him all the time, the commander knew he could conquer lyrium and survive the experience unscathed.  Evie asked him to confide in her when he suffers, but he could not.  Not because he should handle the burden himself, but because Evie healed him.  He did not suffer in her presence.  Yet, he could not tell her without confessing his desires and developing feelings.

Since the withdraw symptoms were gone, Cullen experienced the most pleasant dreams that night after the fire mage left.  When he dreamed, he stood behind Evie in that green velvet dress.  The commander feared if she turned around he would see the sunburst brand on her forehead.  Instead, when she turned, she tug on her back corset strings and untied the dress.  The gown fell away from her shoulders, puddling at her feet.  Her nude form was gorgeous, just as she wash beneath the waterfall.  Her scars were visible, but faint as he traced each with his fingers.  Her bright green eyes locked on his as she gasped, aroused by his touch.  Evie moaned into his mouth as she leaned forward and kissed him.  His hands followed down her collarbone to her breast, grasping-

-And damn it!  That’s when that sodding runner banged on his tower main door with a stupid message from an Orlesian nobleman.  Cullen remembered he nearly punched the runner _and_ the noble square in the nose, so frustrated he could rip a bear’s head off.  Even worse, it was that damn Orlesian who owned Haven, demanding an Inquisition representative address what happened to his sacred hamlet.  The commander stood in the grand hall half dressed, hiding a hard erection while explaining to the yellow buffoon that an ancient magister threatened all of Thedas and began his destruction on the snowy village.

Cullen reached for his tower keys to unlock his office.  Thank the Maker Josephine would be back and she could take care of the damn man.  The commander found the proper key and steadied his shaking hand to unlock the door.  He had a few bells before his fellow advisors and the Inquisitor arrived back.  Maybe he could get some work done.  He heard the door unlock, pushing it open expecting a dark tower.

Instead, the wall torches and surrounding candles were lit.  A form leaned against his desk with their head down.  The person wore strange armor with a bent-out breast plate and a dark grey mantle around their shoulders.  Electricity flickered off all the metal in the office and his armor.  The lingering lyrium burned in his veins.  Cullen began closing the door, realizing who was standing in his office.  He might jump off the battlements now.  Cullen officially had the last straw.

The person stepped forward and caught her foot in the door way, forcing Cullen to push the main door back open.  “That is no way to greet me, Ser Noodle Head.”

Damnation followed him everywhere.

The commander nudged the door open grudgingly.  His amber eyes silted as her ice lilac eyes struck a chord through his body.  Her red tattoo smear across her nose fainted more than he remembered.  Her jet black hair was bit longer than the pixie cut she kept in Kirkwall.  It reached her ears, while her long bangs gave her a mischievous look.  Evie might consider herself a witty minx, but she was Andraste reborn compared with Veronica Hawke.

Cullen took a deep breath, pushing past the apostate to enter his tower.  “How did you get in, Hawke?”

“I figured you would put Fereldan locks on your doors.”  The mage sang, following the commander.  Her swinging leg slammed his reinforced door close with a _bang_.  He jumped at the sound.  “Varric picked it in recorded time.  Nowhere as difficult as your Gallows gate.”

“After you broke in the _fourth_ time, I made sure to hire the best locksmith in Kirkwall to keep you from stealing my files.”  The ex-templar hissed, feeling anxiety rising in his chest.

“How else was I to spread mage abuse cases throughout the city?”  Hawke giggled evilly.  “You were ignoring it despite everything you saw in your personnel files.”  Cullen sat down and shifted through some urgent missives, ignoring the nausea spinning inside his gut.  She sauntered over towards his, popping a knee upward to sit on the desk corner.  Her leg bumped his neatly stacked reports, forcing him to throw the electrical mage a look.  “Now, you work for a mage.  The mage rebellion is aligned with the Inquisition.  The irony, you know?  It’s your turn to feel misery.   _Caged_ and watched every moment of every day.”

Cullen kept his stoic and stern face, fighting the banging chained door in the back of his mind.  She knew what she was doing to him.  She knew he was claustrophobic, keeping him in a small space until he snapped.  He mentally slapped himself across the face for _how_ she knew how to torture him.  Maker, his mistakes haunted him like the Blight.

“So, what is your daring Inquisitor like?”  Hawke’s brow perked.  “Submissive?  Easy to control?  One of your charges?”

Cullen laughed once loudly, startling the apostate.  “I think you met your match, Hawke.  The Inquisitor does not back down from a fight.  I don’t think Varric realized it, but inviting you here might start an all-out mage war.”

Mentally, the commander wanted to beat the dwarf to a pulp.  This woman supported and befriended Evie’s brothers’ killer.  Rumors swirled in Darktown that Hawke slept with Anders a few times.  Sod it, the apostate slept with most of her companions!  One incidence Hawke nearly got the Prince of Starkhaven to rebuke his vows of celibacy just at the small chance to bed her.  The Inquisitor will not respond well to Hawke’s presence.  No wonder Varric kept her identity a secret.  Cullen only had a few bells to prepare for a conflagration.  Evie might blow up the Frostbacks Mountains, actually.  Orlais and Ferelden might need to send troops to calm her down!

“You know I’m not an easy push over, Knight-Captain.”  Hawke cooed, pushing herself off his desk.  She looked like she was going to leave, waltzing towards the door.  “I look forward to meeting your Herald of Andraste.”  She stopped right as her hand touched the door ring.  She flipped her bangs out of her face as she glanced over her grey mantle.  “By the way, I saw my cousin.”  Cullen froze, his hand hovering over his disturbed stacks of parchment.  Maker, he never thought about that.  Hawke’s smirk grew, reading his horrified face.  “You really are a romantic, aren’t you?  You certainly leave your _mark_.”  She tugged the door open towards the west side of Skyhold’s ramparts.  She tickled her fingers in the air as she exited.

Cullen’s tremors vibrated his whole body, hearing the lock latch.  Acid burned the back of his throat.  His brain thumped inside his skull.  Both eyes blurred as he felt himself struggling to breathe.  He tumbled out of his chair, landing on all fours on the wooden floor.  The walls closed in around him and darkness descended.  New voices joined the ghosts as they chanted.  Esme Trevelyan, Raleigh Samson, Maya Amell, Veronica Hawke, and that damn desire demon mocked and whispered inside his mind, breaking the iron bars and chains on his dark door.  He kept his mental arms and hands against it, trying to keep it shut.  His victim’s hands appeared around its edges as it bumped open every so often.  His office and the physical world turned black as his body went limp.  Cullen barely had enough strength to compartmentalize the anguish, sorrow, and fear before passing out. 

 

* * *

 

“Ugh…”  Evie whined as Griffon the Fereldan Forder slowed to a stop right inside Skyhold’s gate.  She rubbed her forehead as her hood blocked out the bright evening sun, burning her hungover eyes.  She slid off her horse slowly until her riding boot touched the cobblestones.  She stumbled a little, relieved that Ansberg equestrian Simons caught her hand before she fell over.

“I have no sympathy for you.”  Cassandra groaned, dusting off her greaves, while giving the Inquisitor the evil eye.  “No one told you to drink four bottles of champagne last night.”

Evie threw her a look.  “You missed the bottle of Antivan tequila after we arrived back at the townhouse.  I had no idea we would ride non-stop the next day.”

Leliana patted Evie on the back, pulling down her chainmail hood.  “Cullen’s reports are worrisome.  We had to return quickly.”  The redhead looked up at the upper front stairs where the commander stood with his hands behind his back.  “We need to meet immediately.”

“May I at least change first?”  Evie groaned.

“Into what, Evelyn?”  Josephine called, leaving her horse for the stable hands.  “Most of your garments will not arrive until the end of the week.”

“Maker sodding shit buckets…”  The mage threw her neck back, wanting to cry right there in the front courtyard.

Then Evie heard it.  She closed her eyes as her magic reached into the Fade and searched for the sounds.  A cello rumbled in the distance, overpowering the symphony.  Its strings were rough and played an intense tone that shook her heart.  The mage felt like the Anchor was electrocuting her again, but when she looked at her left hand, it was stable.

The Inquisitor searched the courtyard for the musician, but no one of importance jumped out at her.  Her bright green eyes scanned to all the faces, barely hearing the people’s songs.  Her attention shifted to the commander nodding to Josephine and Leliana as they climbed the stairwell to the grand hall.  His piano barely registered underneath the blaring cello, but she could hear it.  It was frantic and highly unstable.

Evie’s hangover quickly left her drained body as she marched forward.  Something was wrong.  Cullen was wrong.  As she paced up the path to meet the other advisors, his face became easier to see.  His cheeks were pale.  His hair was disheveled.  His eyes were bloodshot and sunken in.  Dried vomit crusted his scarred lip.  Is this what lyrium withdraw looked like?  As she reached the final stairs, her bright green eyes burned into his.  He was scared, not paranoid.  His beautiful firefly eyes wanted to run and hide.  They screamed at her to look away as his piano hammered random minor chords in her ears.

The mage went into battle mode.  “Report.”  Evie did not mean Inquisition matters.

Cullen waved the gathered women towards the war room.  “Where to begin…”  His voice was rough and barely audible to her ears.  That cello drowned out everyone.  “The easiest one first:  Iron Bull and Varric threaten to riot if we don’t open the tavern tonight.”

“I agree.”  Evie sighed, wishing for a drink to calm her growing nerves despite being so hungover from last night.

“Do you think you drank enough, Evelyn?” Josephine cooed, eying the Inquisitor.

“Am I somber?  If yes, then no.”

“Ugh…”  Cassandra groaned.

“Number two and a more humorous fiasco.”  Cullen pinched his nose, trying to remember everything without his list.  “You saw the new fresco on Skyhold’s walls when you entered?”

 Josephine covered her nose.  “Did Solas decide to paint the gateway?  If yes, he needs new supplies.  The paint’s…pungent.”

“Thank the Avvar chieftain we arrested this morning.  Threw goats across the bridge.”  Cullen informed as he opened the door to Josephine’s office.  He allowed each woman to pass, catching Evie’s daydreaming eyes for a second.  “Skywatcher told me he is the father of the Avvar the Inquisitor killed in the Fallow Mire.”

“Wait.”  Evie awoke from trying to block out the stringed instrument distracting her.  “He was throwing goats.  Like live goats?”

“Yes.  According to Skywatcher, it is an Avvar custom.”

Evie chuckled a few times.  “Please tell me someone saw this!  You saw it, right?  Of course, _I_ miss it because I miss all the good stuff.”

Cullen did not smile, but his eyes lightened a little.  “I figured you would like that.  He is in the prison with Alexius.”

Cassandra pushed open the second door leading to the War Room.  “Good.  Arl Teagan was reluctant to release the magister to us.  Now, we can judge him for nearly obliterating the Inquisitor.”

“Remember that laughter, Inquisitor, because you might yell at the next report.” The commander advised as the mage entered the large stone room with the map of southern Thedas.  The Andrastian stain glass designs on each tall window was finally complete, beaming different colors into the dark room with the evening sun.   “Six Venatori escaped custody while traveling to Skyhold.”

Evie flicked her hand, igniting the candles scones around the room and the horn chandelier high above.  “ _What_?”

Leliana stepped to her position, reviewing a document one of her scouts gave her during their walk to the War Room.  “We were utilizing that hidden path connecting southern Ferelden to the Frostbacks you discovered after clearing the Mire.  No one else should know about it except my spies and Cullen’s men.  The templars camped for the night in an undisclosed location with the Venatori prisoners.  The mages wore mana-restricting cuffs and were caged on carts.”

“Ser Hugh stated they were ambushed by Venatori brutes, who distracted the templars while their rogues infiltrated the camp and released most of the prisoners.”  Cullen continued, gripping his broadsword hilt to disguise his shaking.  Evie’s eyes focused on the tremors.

“We have a mole then.  Leliana, find him so he can face my judgement.  Anyone specific escape?”  The advisors knew that voice.  Evie embraced her Inquisitor persona to avoid her temper exploding.  The mage was angry about the prison escape, but her mind kept concentrating on the cello and Cullen’s tortured behavior.

“Only that Ostwick mage who praised the alliance.”  Leliana reviewed the report for specific names.

“Fucking Linnea escaped?!”  Evie hollered, rubbing her temples.  “Arrest Hanley, that mage from Hossberg.”

All four advisors threw her a look.  Josephine spoke first.  “Inquisitor, that may not be wise.  The alliance mages might find it tyrannical.”

“In that dark future, Hanley tortured countless Chantry clerics.  He claims he is Andrastian now, but I want to avoid any more Venatori sympathizers within the mage ranks.”  Evie explained, gritting her teeth.  “Besides, I am still waiting for the mage council’s _and_ the templar’s proposals!”

“Allow me to approach the mage council regarding Hanley and their proposal.”  Leliana suggested, knowing the Inquisitor was just angry at the moment.  “My spies have spoken to the mage before and found him pleasant, but I will investigate his intentions personally and remind Fiona and the leading fraternity members of their agreement with the Inquisition.  Commander, can you remind Ser Barris for the templars?” 

Cullen nodded. “Yes.”

“Next?”  Cassandra snapped, equally as frustrated as Evie.

“Josephine, the Marquis DuRellion of Haven is here, wishing to address his lost land and Corypheus.”  Cullen’s amber eyes flicked to the ambassador as she wrote quickly on her writing board.

“Banana man is here?”  Evie quizzed as her eyes flickered towards the door and all potential entrances.  “The same one who brought the Dalish ice assassin?”

“Eve, he arrived alone this time and only wishes to speak to someone regarding Corypheus attack.”  Cullen noticed her panic.  His voice soften to reduce the rising hysteria.

“I do not think the marquis is actually here about Corypheus.”  Josephine mentioned, touching her quill to her lips.  “I overheard in Val Royeaux his wife, Lady Machen of Denerim, arguing with him yesterday morning about some family joining the Inquisition.  Lady Machen also complained about their lost fortune and lands.  Other house members traveled to the Western Approach.[2]  I believe his visit is regarding those matters.  Also, the marquis wishes to partner with the Inquisition to build a memorial.  I will speak to the nobleman…although, Evelyn, please do not call him a banana.”

“He is a banana until I know he’s not trying to kill me.  Make sure Patricia is not involved too.  It starts with a memorial, ends with my head on her dinner tray.”  Evie huffed.  She started rubbing her temples again.  “Next?”

Leliana waved her hand.  “Connor Gurrien arrived as Ferelden’s diplomat.  He wishes to meet with you, Evie, in the next few days regarding his role.  He seems still upset about his new position.  His guilt regarding Redcliffe continues.  Connor is only acting as a diplomat at the king’s and his father’s insistence.”

The Inquisitor nodded, sighing.  Her adrenaline increased with each new disaster.  Furthermore, the cello gnawed at her raging soul, encouraging her to explode and make a bigger mess of everything.  She wanted to find the person and shut them up!  “Have him meet with the mage council first.  Josephine, schedule something for tomorrow afternoon.  It’s going to be a _long_ meeting so white wine, _please_.”  The mark sparked on her hand, the first time since the Haven attack.  Evie winced, grabbing her wrist.  Cassandra stared at the mage, surprised.  Cullen nearly jumped over the table.

“Next?!”  Evie groaned, rubbing her forehead.  The sun was blinding her now.  Her brain felt like it swelled against her skull.

Cullen swallowed, staring at the map.  “Those Tevinter assassins, Marius and Tessa have confirmed they wanted to collaborate with the Inquisition-“

Evie leaned against table.  The cello was relentless.  The mark sparked again.  Cullen’s piano hammered against the keys.  The mage tried to disconnect from the symphony.  Cassandra’s trumpet joined the music, all making intense, annoying sounds.  “Send them after the escaped prisoners.  Next?!”

All the advisors noticed the Inquisitor struggling.  Cullen hurried through his reports, ignoring his own shaking.  “One last thing, we have a location to where smugglers are moving red lyrium, the Emerald Graves-”

Evie waved off the commander, stumbling towards the door.  “-O-okay, I-I’ll prepare a team to l-leave in the next three days.”  The mage swayed, nearly purging all over the stone floor.  “I apologize.  I…I need to rest.  The mark’s acting up.  I just got to be alone-”

Cullen circled around the war table, quickly pacing towards her panicking.  “Eve, before you go, I-I need to tell you something.”

Evie took five steps back, hearing his piano grow with each step closer.  Her hands outstretched in front of her, shaking her head to stop him.  “No, p-please!  Anything else can wait!  I’ll be in the tavern tonight.  I…I’ll be in my tower until then.  I’m sorry…”  Her bright green eyes locked on Cullen, seeing him struggling with her request.

The mage marched out of the War Room, barely in control.  Whoever this person was, the Fade pulled towards them like a magnet.  Maybe they will show at the tavern party tonight so she can tell them to shut up.  It could be an adversary, especially how Cullen acted.  He wanted to speak with her, and Evie just pushed him away.  She raced up her tower stairs, gasping as the noise rattled her heart and soul.  He was just too loud.  Everyone was too loud and annoying.  For the first time since she heard the fade’s music as a child, Evie wanted to make it stop.  She wanted the spiritual dream world to leave her alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Referring to the War Table Mission, “Dorian’s Request” and Dorian’s Personal Quest “One Less Venatori”
> 
> [2] When you visit Val Royeaux after Haven is destroyed, you see the husband and wife arguing in the Summer Bazaar.


	10. A Hawking Nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song: "They Don't Care About Us" by 2Cellos (Originally Performed by Michael Jackson)
> 
> Story utilizes existing events and conversations from Dragon Age: Inquisition, all owned by Bioware and EA.
> 
> This is one of my favorite chapters too.

“What do you mean I can’t participate?!”  Varric whined, looking back at Lace Harding and Leliana.  Above him hung an archery contest notice the scout organized for next month.

“Because you’ll cheat.” Cassandra huffed, taking another swig of her ale.  The seeker swayed a little, grunting and groaning every time she looked at Varric.

The dwarf threw her a look.  “Seeker, I wouldn’t dare!  I’m an honest guy!”

The seeker lifted her free fist and prepared to punch the dwarf like he was a bear.  Leliana quickly nudged her away, whispering in her ear about not giving the rogue the satisfaction.  Varric shrugged, taking another gulp of fine dwarven beer before finding a seat at a nearby table.

After almost a month, Skyhold’s tavern was open in all its glory.  The tavern overshadowed Haven’s small hole-in-the-wall pub with its fine woodwork and open architecture.  Almost everyone who was off duty occupied its three expansive floors.  Rumors swirled around Skyhold that the Inquisitor herself would declare the building open.  Anytime the Inquisitor appeared, troops, pilgrims, and refugees gathered in anticipation for another whirlwind speech and a chance to personally meet the great savior of Thedas.  Varric noticed she had a large following forming everywhere she went, almost worshipping the ground she walked on.

Varric sighed happily, listening to the atmosphere around him.  It was almost like the Hanged Man, except for the absent bloodstains and scorch marks on the floor.  Give Evie a few games of Diamondback to add the missing details.  Suddenly, the dwarf missed his city-state, his stone home even in its crumbling state.  Meeting Hawke again and sitting in a new pub reminded him of what he left behind when Cassandra danged him across the Waking Sea.  Yet, he did not regret joining the Inquisition _officially_ as Evie’s scribe and sensible friend.

New and old tavern workers raced around the packed tables.  Flissa served food and chatted with everyone.  The woman was getting her weekly work out running up and down the stairs with patrons’ orders.  It was definitely different than the tavern she ran in Haven.  Maybe she could keep up with the Iron Bull’s stamina in bed.  The Qunari almost broke her last time.  The minstrel Maryden Halewell played merry music.  The woman used to sing in Val Royeaux, but following the Conclave, she entertained the soldiers and clerics.  Rumors swirled she was a bard sent to spy on the Inquisition.[1]  Varric figured she was one of Philliam’s agents assisting his great niece from afar.  Her face brightened the pub tonight as she swayed with her lute by the tall stone fireplace.  A new bartender name Cabot blandly filled pitchers with beer and served shots.  The dwarf sounded tranquil.  Everything he said was deadpanned and lacked joy.  Varric wondered who shat in his ale in Orzammar.

The Inquisitor’s Inner Circle moved in and claimed their territory very quickly.  Iron Bull and his Chargers already declared the first floor outcove for themselves.  The whole mercenary band was louder than everyone else.  The Qunari’s laugh could be heard all the way to Cole’s little corner on the third floor.  They lived in the tower behind the pub so they could easily stumble in and out of the tavern without stepping foot outside.  Sera entertained the fortress’ servants in her renovated sun room, telling vulgar jokes and making obscene gestures.  Although the space had plenty of pillows and areas to lay down, she chose to sleep on the outcove roof.  The rogue was adopting Evie’s odd habits.  Varric selected a room next to the tavern, above the infirmary.  The dwarf knew he would rarely be there.  He preferred his little corner in the grand hall so he could observe and write.  The nobles enjoyed gossiping, giving the writer new book material.

Varric sat down beside Dorian at a back corner table.  The mage looked like he had been dumped by the Empress of Orlais, cursing in Tevene and flicking peanut shells against a wooden pillar.  “You still sore, Sparkler?”

“Of course!”  The mage huffed, taking another sip of fine brandy.  His personal bottle sat half full, yet Dorian still looked completely sober.  “I should have won that chess tournament.  Look at my competitors!  I was the best finely dressed.  You can always tell a person’s skill by how well they dress.  And Solas won!?  The elf wouldn’t know fashion if it was poured all over his big egghead.  At least the commander agreed to a rematch soon.  He is a sight I don’t mind staring at in silence.  Oh the mental images my mind can produce.  I beat Vivienne, so she’s probably planning my demise in her loft.”  He glanced at his brandy bottle.  “Where _did_ this come from anyway?”  Dorian shrugged, pouring himself another glass.

“Eh,” Varric shrugged.  “No one expected Chuckles to win.  That should’ve been my first clue.”

“Who won the betting pool?” Dorian eyed the dwarf across the table.

“That runner…I think his name’s Jimmy?”  Varric snapped his fingers a few times.  “The one Curly will beat into a beer malt someday soon.”

Dorian chuckled.  “How is _that_ bet going?”

“I was sure it was going to happen this morning.”  Varric shook his head, consulting his small book he kept in his inside tunic pocket.  “The commander thundered through the grand hall _real_ early this morning with no shirt, yelling at the top of his lungs at some Orlesian noble.  Knocked his yellow mask right off the guy’s face.”

“If he needs some relaxation, I am sure I can make some time.”  Dorian cooed, licking his lips as he watched the blond Fereldan knight enter the pub. 

“Get in line.”  Varric glanced at the door, rolling his eyes.  The commander still wore his full suit of armor and that stupid coat.  The dwarf knew Hawke visited him early that afternoon, hearing from his dear friend that he had not changed despite what Varric told her by letter.  From how he acted as the seeker and Leliana greeted him, he looked like someone ran him over with a keg cart a few times.  “I have it on good authority that a specific fire mage freezes in his presence.”

Dorian nearly spit out his drink.  “What?  Why hasn’t she told me?  At least she has good taste.  Where have you learned this little gossipy tidbit?”

“A certain Antivan butterfly…the ladies teased her the whole night at the theatre.  That’s why she arrived so hungover this afternoon.”

The Tevinter mage laughed deeply, leaning his head back.  “Well, isn’t that interesting…”  The tan-skinned man leaned over, pulling a pouch from his leather under armor.  He left his silk embroidered robes in his room.  “Put me down for five sovereigns by the end of spring.”

Varric slipped his reading glasses on, quill hovering over his betting book.  “For?”

That only made the mage laugh more.  “My, isn’t everyone interested in them.  Enjoying each other company in bed, of course.  The evidence will be both of them acting calm instead of threatening to blow up the whole castle.  Evie _needs_ someone to make her purr.  The woman is going insane being this grand devout Inquisitor.”

Varric nodded, grimacing.  Their holy leader showed signs of going insane.  After Haven, the fire mage started speaking to people about herself and the past.  Yet, she continuously stated she needed to be this beacon for the soldiers and the people of Thedas.  She always cursed and complained with her close friends, but she walked Skyhold and greeted people like she was on a leash, being controlled by her new role.  If anyone could help her from being swallowed up in leadership, it would be Curly.  The two needed each other like a bolt needed Bianca the Crossbow.  Varric rubbed his eyes.  Why did he have to think of _her_ in that comparison?

Whistles ran out throughout the building as the patrons were waved off the dance floor.  Varric watched Sera hop out of her room and lean against the second floor railing, clapping and bouncing like a giggling lunatic.  Iron Bull moved a servant straddling him a little so he had better view of the front door.  Leliana, Cassandra, Cullen, and Josephine moved towards a wooden pillar at Blackwall’s persistence.  The Grey Warden already looked like he drank a keg of ale himself for liquid courage.  He might be silent about his past, but the man displayed his devotion to their noble Antivan ambassador quite publicly.  Current interest on their love life was not as strong as Cullen and Evie’s, but still worth the investment. 

Cole appeared out of grey smoke on top of Dorian and Varric’s table, fiddling with a silver thimble.  Unlike other Inner Circle companions, the spirit did not bother Varric.  He actually enjoyed hearing all the juicy gossip.  Varric nominated himself to educate the boy on how to be more human.  Evie’s only request was to let the spirit eat first before introducing alcohol.  Of course, spirits do not eat.  The Inquisitor and Cole were usually inseparable.  Cole kept her inner thoughts to himself, much to Varric’s displeasure.  Evie glanced and spoke to him constantly during her duties.  People believed she is nuts since she spoke to thin air, although Varric knew Cole was in stealth behind her.  His presence on the table meant Evie was nearby.

The dwarf knew there would be a few missing people there tonight.  Solas preferred spirits in the Fade over living people, spending most evenings reading or sleep traveling.  Vivienne always spent the evenings entertaining Orlesian envoys.  Varric did not know the exact connection Evie and the first enchanter had, but from the conversation in Val Royeaux with Philliam, it was not a pretty one.  Both women kept a distance from one another, speaking only if absolutely necessary.  Afterwards, Evie usually threw a few fireballs at innocent nugs that crossed her path. 

Typically, Cullen was anti-social too, working long hours in his tower, barking orders to runners deep into the night.  Varric saw the man walk to the kitchens more than once at three bells in the morning while reading a report.  However, he seemed anxious for Evie to arrive that night.  Everyone in the Inner Circle whispered to one another about the Inquisitor’s human mabari.  They all knew about the man’s growing feelings for the Inquisitor, except naïve Evie of course. 

Varric wished he had not told Hawke about Cullen’s affections now that the apostate was here.  When he mentioned it by letter a few months ago, it was a funny joke about a softening old acquaintance.  Of course, the dwarf knew the ex-templar and the Champion slept together once long ago.  Varric was the one who mentioned Hawke’s ‘Walk of Shame’ the next morning as she staggered into the Hanged Man, half dressed and smacking her forehead against the bar.  That definitely was not the first time his best friend walked in like that.  Now, he witnessed how disturbed the commander appeared while standing in the tavern.  Varric knows how malicious Hawke can be with teasing, especially regarding ‘Noodle Head.’  He wondered what Hawke said when they met earlier.

“Ladies and Gentlemen!”  Blackwall called out throughout the tavern.  “I present…your Inquisitor!”

All eyes and attention shifted to the tavern door as a woman with long wavy curly auburn brown hair walked in with her hands in the air, smiling happily.  Maryden played some grand marching music, in sync with the Inquisitor’s steps.  Everyone laughed and applauded as she spun around on one boot in the middle of the dance floor.  She bowed continuously, her hair flowing up and down much like her magic swirling around her.

“She looks fantastic!”  Dorian laughed, nodding in approval.

Evie did look amazing.  Varric figured she must have gone shopping in Val Royeaux because he did not recognize her outfit.  She wore a white collared tunic unbuttoned a little in the front with tight cuffed sleeves under a leather vest corset that shaped her breast and defined her curves.  The tunic stuck out under the vest over tight brown leather pants.  An open front fur skirt hung off the vest with buckles and snaps, allowing the wearer to remove it if desired.  Right now, it just made the Herald majestic to her devout followers.  Lastly, a pair of knee-high, high heeled boots with buckles up the sides finished her ensemble.  Around her neck was a brown leather choker with a large amber gem hanging off a silver clasp and matching amber studded earrings.  Even her cuffed sleeves had amber studs.

The Inquisitor waved her hands downward to settle the audience to quiet.  She cleared her throat, nodding thanks to Flissa as the barmaid gave her a flagon of beer.  “Good evening, everyone.  Before we begin, I wish to honor all who sacrificed their lives at Haven so we may live, especially Lord Chancellor Roderick Asignon, who gave his life so we all could escape safely.”  She raised her drink and everyone followed.  “To Haven.”

“To Haven.”  Everyone responded.

The fire mage took a drink, lowering the beer from her dark rosy lips.  “Now, I have one _very_ important rule for this tavern.  In here, there is no Inquisition, no Corypheus, no war.  In here, there is no hate, no worry, no fear.  In here, I am Evie, a Circle mage who so happened to walk out of the Fade.  No big deal, right?”  Varric chuckled, shaking his head.  “It is the same for Leliana, Cassandra, Josephine, and…well maybe not the commander because he all know he can’t relax.  I mean, seriously.  He wore his armor to a party, for Maker’s sake!”

Cullen scowled at Evie, rolling his amber eyes.  Cassandra patted his shoulder as Josephine and Leliana giggled together.  From Sera’s corner on the second floor, a few people barked.  Evie burst out laughing, nearly spilling her flagon all over the floor.  Cullen stepped forward, waving his fist in the air, growling.  It only caused the whole pub to start barking.  Varric never saw him turn that shade of purple before, a new achievement.

Evie waved down the crowd again, still cackling a few times.  “What I mean is that this place is for rest, fun, games, conversation…and damn good beer.  Once you step out the door, you are Scout Harding or Lord Minutiae.  In here, you are just Lace or Trifles with no titles or rank.  And that applies to our guests by the way, Josephine.  If you break this rule, I will find out and everyone will see the consequences the next time you enter these doors.  Iron Bull, that is your duty while living here.”

The crowd groaned and whimpered as the Qunari smirked devilishly.  “I have a few ideas, Boss.  Believe me.”

“You have been forewarned, runners.”  Evie giggled, lifting her flagon in the air.  “So, drink and be merry in…the Herald’s Rest!”

The customers went wild as the mage drank her flagon completely empty.  The mug fell from her lips, revealing the bright smile across her face.   Maryden began playing her lute again as patrons began conversing.  Varric hopped off his chair, holding his mug.  It was time to introduce the Inquisitor to his best friend.  Hawke wanted to attend the party, but the dwarf advised the Champion to first speak with Evie and allow him to hide from Cassandra’s wrath.  The introductions would only take a few moments and both women will enjoy each other’s company afterwards. 

Hawke and Evie were quite similar.  Both were tough mages who did not allow anyone to walk over them.  Each were reserved until they knew you better.  Varric knew Evie pretty well after travelling with her to Val Royeaux, the Storm Coast, and of course the Hinterlands.  Thedas needed to watch out because the two of the most influential people were about to meet and conquer the world.

Varric nodded his chin towards Evie as she received a new filled flagon from Flissa.  The dwarf noticed out of the corner of his eye Cullen trying to get the fire mage’s attention, wearing a serious expression.  Varric took the opportunity to pull Evie’s arm to the side.  Luckily, Dorian intercepted the commander, complaining about the chess tournament again.

“Monkey, got someone I want you to meet.” Varric hinted towards the back door through the tavern’s kitchen.

“Right now?  I just got here!”  Evie hissed, knowing his special informant was in Skyhold.  “Did you not hear me say no Inquisition business in here!?”

“The guest will come back with us.  It will only take a few moments, I promise.”  Varric advised, pushing the mage behind the bar.  “Just do this for me, okay?  Before Cassandra finds out?”

Evie sighed, rolling her eyes.  “This better be good, dwarf!”

 

* * *

 

Evie listened carefully as Varric wandered away the battlements to distract an Inquisition guard.  The cello sang in her ears as she stared at the famous Veronica Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall.  The fire mage knew Varric had many friends, both in high and low places.  However, it surprised her that he was shy to introduce his infamous informant to the other advisors.  The dwarf had been skittish since Cassandra arrived back to Skyhold.  The seeker kept asking Evie if he had met his friend yet.  Cullen’s wariness and hammering piano completed the picture.  An apostate he faced many times in Kirkwall walked the castle like a recurring nightmare from his templar past.

Now, it all made sense.

The electric mage was not what the Inquisitor envisioned.  Varric painted an image of a strong woman who faced the Arishok, First Enchanter Orsino, and the tyrannical Knight-Commander Meredith Stennard with one hand tied behind her back.  According to the novel, the apostate ate blood mages for breakfast, rogue templars as lunch, and dragons for dinner.

The woman before the Inquisitor was somewhat plain.  Her jet black hair disappeared into the winter night sky as she leaned against the stone wall.  Evie only knew her hair was cut quite short because of the random torches lining the ramparts.  She had a strange red war paint smudge across her nose and on her exposed arm.  Evie figured it was just an added descriptor by Varric, but it was real.  Stupid really.  The Herald always heard Kirkwall had strange cultural practices, stemming from its long crazy history.  Her weathered armor reflected her once important status in the city-state with its jagged metal pieces and chainmail.  The leather was fainted and torn, while the grey fur mantle looked worn and stained with old blood.

Evie gritted her teeth, staring into the woman’s icy lilac eyes.  The mage studied her right back, keeping her arms crossed over her chest and her shoulders back.  The electric mage demanded respected with her behavior, similar to Evie’s sister, Patricia.  Her face was stolid, only curling at the edge of her lip ever so often as she analyzed the Inquisitor.  Evie felt threatened and caught with her pants down.  She did not have her staff like the elemental mage, but she had the mark, an extended supply of mana if needed.

The air sparked around the Champion as the Herald knew embers swirled around her.  Both women prepared for a showdown without even saying a single word to one another.  Evie listened, attempting to push the blaring cello out of her soul.  Varric’s voice was very distant now, almost by the armory on the other side of the east ramparts.  It was only she and Veronica Hawke

Hawke was that intense cello that rattled Evie all afternoon. Even after escaping to her north tower, Evie could not block out the large stringed instrument.  The person had a very strong connection to the Fade.  Varric’s book told of how Hawke fought her friends in the Fade as they were tempted by pride and desire demons.  The apostate lost her mother and sister, while her brother fought her constantly, becoming a templar to spite her.

Brother.  _Brothers._

Evie avoided the thought since being introduced.  Her mind suggested countless insults every moment in the Champion’s presence.  This woman called that abomination a friend.  They fought beside one another for years and even assisted the monster unintentionally in blowing up the Chantry.  She turned against him in the end, but let him live.  She let him _escape_.  Was she better or worse than Queen Asta?  Worse, much worse.  The warden-commander was defending her order, according to Alistair.  Hawke defended that thing for years, listening to him and that demon talk about mage freedom.  She sided with the templars in the end.  Was that because of that abomination’s actions at the Chantry, or was she fighting her own conscience after years of being lied to?

“Varric said you killed Corypheus.”  Evie’s voice was flat like a tranquil.  She did not want to give away her true emotions.  She at least wanted the women to speak before setting her aflame.  “I’m pretty sure I faced the arrogant fool in Haven.”

“You dropped half a mountain on the bastard, from what I heard.”  Her voice was lower, sassy even as her head bobbled when she spoke.  “And I didn’t just _think_ I killed him.  When the fight was done, he was dead on the ground.  The Grey Wardens had him imprisoned.  They used my father’s blood in the ritual to seal Corypheus inside.  He could still reach out and control the wardens’ thoughts.  He sent them after me.  I barely survived.”

Evie braced herself.  “So the ancient asshole has the Venatori, the red templars, and now potentially the wardens as well?  Oh wonderful.  Add a planned assassination on the Empress of Orlais and holes in the Veil and you just described my fucking life at the moment.”

Hawke huffed, looking up at the black sky.  “I didn’t come this far just to give you bad news.  I have a friend in the wardens.  He was investigating something unrelated for me.  His name is Stroud.  The last time we spoke, he was worried about corruption in the warden ranks.”

“The Warden-Commander of Ferelden is gone.  Related?”

The electric mage shook her head no.  “Unlikely.  She was already missing when Stroud mentioned the issues.”

“So, Corypheus then.”  Evie rubbed her temples.  “You still have contact?  We only found one warden since this all started, and he doesn’t know what is happening.”

“Stroud told me he’d be hiding in an old smuggler’s cave in Crestwood.”  Hawke informed, readjusting her stance against the rampart wall.  “Of course, I will take you there.  Corypheus is my responsibility.  I released the bastard.  I should help clean this up.”

Evie now bit the inside of her cheek, tasting copper as she bled.  The Champion sounded so calm for her mistakes.  There was no regret, no remorse.  She did not care she supported a man whose actions caused thousands deaths across the kingdoms by starting the mage-templar war.  The war’s effects left bodies of the elderly, women, and children scattered across the Hinterlands.  Rogues templars and mages tore each other apart, and it did not matter to Hawke.  She simply shrugged about a monster she released, who killed so many refugees, soldiers, and pilgrims in Haven.  Thousands more at the Temple of Sacred Ashes.  Roderick came back into her mind.  She and the Chantry bureaucrat never got along, but Cole told her he regretted fighting her.  His heart changed, and he believed in her.  Roderick was now dead because of Hawke’s actions.

The Inquisitor felt she should understand this once leader a bit more.  Maybe there was an explanation to all her tomfoolery.  “Why did you step down as viscountess?  Kirkwall was in shambles.  It needed a leader.”

“The templars in Kirkwall were using a form of lyrium, red in color, that made them paranoid, and eventually they turned on me.  I left to find out more.  That’s why I was in contact with Stroud.  I’d hoped the wardens could tell me more about it.”  Hawke’s expression never shifted as if she was having a causal conversation about the weather.

“You mean because you and Varric found it in the Deep Roads.”  Evie interjected.  That caused the electric mage’s eyes to widen.  “Yes, I know. Bartrand asked my father to fund the expedition.  He declined.  Dodged a bolt really when that idol became Meredith’s sword and tore up the Gallows.  I am quite familiar with that red nasty shit.  It grew out of Corypheus like a fungus.  I’ve seen it grow out of living people like hair and nails.  I’ve already killed waves of templars fed the stuff.  And by the way, the Kirkwall’s templars were still functioning when you left.  They were led by our now Inquisition commander.”

“Ha!”  Hawke huffed, rolling her icy lilac eyes.  “You meant Knight-Captain Noodle Head.  Mister There-Is-No-Corruption-While-Watching-Mages-Being-Branded-Daily!  The man is the most indecisive sonofabitch in Thedas.  Good luck with that!”

Now, the battle was rumbling.  Hawke’s stoic face morphed with each facial twitch and cutting wisecrack.  This was Evie’s realm.  This was her fortress.  She will not let her Inquisition and its commander be taunted by a craven bitch.  “Is that why your brother followed Commander Rutherford so loyally?  That same commander defended you against the scariest knight-commander the templars ever produced!”

“Carver is an asshole, but he is the only family I got!”  Hawke hissed, stepping forward.  Her magic gathered around her head, specifically around her eyes as the air ionized and gave off a strong smell.

“You still got a brother.”  Evie retorted, pulling her magic’s embers close.  Her palms outstretched to either side.  “You defended the abomination that killed both of mine!”

“An abomination?!”  Hawke shouted as lightning arced in the sky above her.  “I kill those things for a midnight snack!”

Fireballs exploded in both of Evie’s hands.  She reached into the Fade.  Even there, Hawke’s cello and her violin competed for superiority as they dueled in the dark and twisted orchestra.  Evie held both balls towards the Champion, one dyed green by the Anchor and other orange-red flames.  “Where is Anders!?”

Hawke winced for a moment.  Finally!  The inane woman figured out what Evie meant.  “I had no control over that maniac!”

“Yet, you let him escape the city!  A Grey Warden too!  A dangerous Grey Warden is free while an ancient magister _you_ released is trying to destroy Thedas!”

Hawke’s magic dissipated as Evie’s words sank in.  The lightning mage looked behind Evie, smirking wickedly.  “I’m here to fix my mistakes.  What will _you_ do, _Inquisitor!?_ ”

Evie felt a metal claw with a red ribbon grab her throat.  A new cello rattled her bones.  The sound was deafening as the metal claw glowed light blue with lyrium.  A presence neared her from behind.  White hair tickled the fire mage’s ear, lips whispering, “I can kill you with a simple squeeze, _mage_.”

The Inquisitor froze as the man’s eerie rough voice vibrated with the cello in the Fade.  Now Evie understood.  She assumed the cello was coming from Hawke, but it was actually two cellos, two Fade-touched people working in unison.  No wonder the Herald could not drown out the strings in her head.   Lyrium pulsed through the man’s arm as Evie searched for an explanation.  Was this Hawke’s brother?  No.  Even Ser Barris, Knight-Captain Rylen, and Ser Hugh combined could not be this loud.  Then-

“Stand down, Fenris.”

Evie gasped, closing her bright green eyes at the sound of his husky voice.  Through the blaring dueling cello and violin, even fighting this lyrium pumping second cello behind her, a soft lonesome piano called out of her.  He seemed so far away, but Evie’s heart reached out for his music.

“I will snap her neck if she hurts Hawke.”  The man gripping Evie’s throat warned.

Metal tapped against metal.  Cullen’s broadsword was at the assailant’s back.  “And if she dies, I will cut you and Veronica to pieces and feed them to her mabari.  Now, _let her go_.”  Cullen growled with such ferocity Evie was sure everyone nearly pissed themselves just hearing it.

“Fucking Andraste's arse, Fenris, stand down!”  Varric yelled behind Evie. 

The man’s metal grip tightened.  His metal claws tore into Evie’s neck, drawing blood.  It trickle down her throat and between her breasts.  “Drop the fireballs.”

Evie eyed Hawke.  She was smug.  The fucking bitch was gloating knowing Evie cannot slay her without killing herself.  Both fireballs rolled and burned in the Inquisitor’s hands pointed at the woman who allowed so many people to die.  She helped Anders murder Esme, her baby brother!

“Cullen, silence me!”  Evie barely screamed as her emotions controlled her magic.  The mark flared and sparked.  If the Inquisitor allowed the Anchor, she could create a fade rift and kill them all in a second.  Evie’s eyes shifted to Hawke.  The Champion now looked worried, studying the green foreign magic wide eyed and unnerved by the strange power.  The smugness was gone.  Terror filled her electrified eyes.

“ _What?!_ ”  The commander yelled, his blade still at Fenris’ back.

“SILENCE ME!”

Darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Her biography on the wiki site said she was not a bard in the Orlesian sense, but I found it strange she was everywhere the Inquisitor travels.  Maybe she is a spy…?
> 
> If you want to see Evie's outfit from the party, [](<div)<https://thejeeperswife.tumblr.com/post/170432950404/hey-readers-this-inspired-evies-look-in-part-2> click here!


	11. Liar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because you all asked nicely...just don't get use to it. ;)
> 
> Chapter Song: "Pearls" by Sade
> 
> Story utilizes existing events and conversations from Dragon Age: Inquisition, all owned by Bioware and EA.

Cullen will _murder_ Varric. 

The commander could not drop his broadsword fast enough as Evie slumped sideways unconscious with Fenris’s clawed gauntlet still on her throat.  He dove and caught the Inquisitor before the elf’s grip broke her neck.  The warrior only released when Cullen nearly swept his legs out from underneath him.  The ex-templar eyed Hawke, daring her to proceed with her snide insults.  He mentally exploded with rage.

He will massacre all three of them.

Cullen traveled to the tavern that night to protect Evie both from Hawke and herself.  He knew the Inquisitor arrived from Val Royeaux not well.  She nearly fell off her Fereldan Forder and looked like she was trampled over by a dozen druffalo.  However, one look at him caused her to panic and scan the whole courtyard.  He had yet to find ways to conceal his lyrium fortepiano.  The mage read him immediately, asking for an explanation with her bright green eyes and her words sounding like the leader persona.  By the end of their urgent meeting, she was in shambles.  She kept covering her ears, swaying and wincing.  The Anchor bothered her the first time in a month.  Indirectly, the Herald knew Hawke was here even before seeing the witch.  She heard her wicked music through the Fade.

The ex-templar hurried towards Evie after her tavern toast.  People gathered on the dance floor too quickly as he tried to weave towards the Inquisitor.  Bile again burned in his throat as his fear of tight spaces overwhelmed his duty to protect Evie.  The mental door hammered against his eardrums, driving out the imaginary nails he placed earlier to meet the advisors.  He was within a few feet about to call out her name when Dorian stepped in his way.

The commander nearly pushed the Tevinter mage over to reach Evie.  Varric led her away out the kitchen exit.  He never heard a word Dorian said as the auburn haired woman disappeared from his view.  The walls started closing in on him as all his ghosts started chanting, ‘you failed her’ over and over again.

Somehow Cullen made it outside, gasping for air.  The dark walls dissipated from his vision, but his barred door rattled the chains.  He glanced around panicked, hoping to see the mage and dwarf in the distance.  Skyhold’s courtyard was devoid of life.

“Eve…?”  He whispered, pinching the bridge of his nose.  His migraine pounded against his skull.  Halos of light flickered at the edge of his vision.  He could not distinguish between the pain and the torches along the ramparts.  The tremors were unbearable.

“I promise!  I’ll tell you the story later.”

Cullen’s body twirled around, noticing two figures walking down the stairs by the armory.  One was an on-duty guard, nodding and smiling.  The other was Varric, almost pushing the soldier down the stairs with his left hand.  He kept looking back up behind him, grinning.  The commander marched across the upper courtyard.  The soldier saw his expression immediately, nodded to Varric, and whimpered ‘sir’ before running away.  Cullen grabbed Varric’s half-open tunic and threw him against the armory wall.  The dwarf shouted in pain.  The infuriated former templar pulled out several strawberry blond chest hairs with his fisted glove.

“Where is she!?”  Cullen growled, shoving his face right up to Varric’s.

“What the fuck, Curly!?”  The writer yelled, smacking at the commander’s gauntlets to release him.  “Put me down!”

Cullen pulled the dwarf away from the wall and threw him right back into it with such force it knocked the wind out of Varric.  “I said, where is the Inquisitor!?”

“Shit dude!”  Varric coughed, gasping for air.  “She’s with Hawke!  She’s fine!”

“Bullshit!” Cullen lifted him higher off the ground, then released his grip.  Varric tumbled on his behind with a _thug_ and yelped in pain.  “You just left her with a woman who is partly responsible for killing her brothers!”

Varric stared upward, coughing some more.  “You did that, Curly!  You’re the one who stationed her baby brother to Kirkwall’s Chantry!”

Cullen kicked some dirt in the dwarf’s face.  “I told Eve my role.  However, I didn’t fuck the man who killed both of her brothers.  I didn’t tell the remaining templars not to search for the sonofabitch when he escaped the city!  They stupidly listened to the viscountess and kept me in the dark until it was too late, you dumbass!”

“Wait.  _Both_ brothers?  There were two?!”  Varric froze as his eyes shifted to the ramparts.  “Maker’s tits!”

The dwarf jumped to his feet, twirled around Cullen, and ran up the stairs.  The commander drew his sword, pulling all the lyrium in his body together.  This would not end until one mage laid dead on the ground he feared.

Cullen will rip them all apart.

The commander kicked his tower door open with one boot while carrying the unconscious Evie across his arms.  The door lock clanged against the stone beneath him.  He swept the papers and books off his desk with his gloved free hand.  He rested the fire mage down, seeing closely in the torchlight the damage Fenris did.  Her neck was bloody and bruising terribly.  Each individual finger could be traced around Evie’s throat.  Everyone in Skyhold will know tomorrow how a former slave almost killed the Herald.

Cullen struggled with what he should do, running his hand through his disheveled hair.  He was alone.  Varric remained with Hawke, most likely fearing getting thrown over the battlements.  Solas was across the bridge, but the commander did not want to leave Evie.  She may wake in a few moments like by the lake, yet she may be severely injured.  The man raced behind his desk, kicking his locked door.  He busted open its front, thankful it was an old rotten table he found in Skyhold’s rubble.  He pulled out his lyium box.  He lifted the lid, ignoring the one blue vial he had stashed there in case of an emergency.  To its right was one red vial, a healing potion that he could use if he was tempted.  The ex-templar grasped the cork and hurried back to Evie.

Gently lifting the Inquisitor up and supporting her neck, Cullen eased the liquid down her throat.  He prayed she would not choke.  Her bloodied chest moved with each small breath at least, meaning the elf did not crush her windpipe.  Once dispensed, the commander threw the empty glass bottle over his shoulder, it shattering against the far wall.  Evie remained cradled in his arms like a fragile maiden, while her lower half was supported by the desk.

Adrenaline slowly disappeared from the commander’s vision and muscles as metal and bile burned his dry mouth.  The silence ability nearly pulled all the energy out of him.  Thank goodness it only took one action instead of two like last time.  The longer he was off lyrium, the less his templar aptitudes remained.  What would he do in the next several months if he must fight Venatori or stop Evie again?  He wanted to protect her, but he was becoming weak and useless.

The insensate woman currently safe in Cullen’s armored arms was too far away for his own comfort.  The draft winter air kept blowing through the broken door, sending shivers up her exposed body.  She might be a natural furnace as a fire mage, but Cullen needed to feel her warmth against his body.  Her stillness and bloodied condition kept reminding the man of her frozen dead body covered in mountain snow just a month ago.  He needed to feel her breath, touch her sun-kiss skin against his chest, and hold her close to push that traumatizing sight from his mind’s eye.

While still holding the mage, Cullen tugged at the buckles holding his pauldrons and breastplate.  The action usually required two hands, but he refused to let go of her.  The more the blue and black marks appeared under her goosebump skin, the more he would slaughter all three Kirkwall residents without a hesitation.  One buckle came lose, but his coat blocked the piece from falling off his shoulder.  He had to lay her down.

The commander rushed, throwing off the coat and mantle, placing it over Evie’s unresponsive body.  A small glimmer of happiness returned to his frantic mind.  It would smell like her afterwards until his musky stench permeated the fabric again.  He pulled off his gauntlets so his fingers could work at the buckles better.  He should have anticipated the _clang_ as his pauldrons fell from his shoulders and the breastplate disconnected from his core.

Evie stirred on his desk, whining a little.  Cullen kicked the gear away.  “Eve!  Maker, please!  Eve!  Wake up!”

A few wheezing coughs escaped the stirring body.  Both green eyes flew open as she bent forward, coughing and grasping her neck.  Cullen’s left hand supported her back as she wheezed and cleared her throat.  Huge gasps of air escaped her small frame.  The tremors started along with huge sobs as the mage quickly fell apart.  Her face turned bright red and swollen, while her hands clasped her throat.  She pulled them away ever so often, seeing the drying blood drip from her fingertips.  The tears poured down her cheeks, freaking out more.

In one fluid motion, Cullen pulled Evie close to him, but did not expect her arms to fling around his neck and grasp him tightly.  The mage motioned like she would scream as she tensed her body, but no sound came out.  Her teeth bit into his leather doublet, most likely to release the pain and fear.  Maker, the woman had a set of jaws.  He felt the clinching bite through his few layers of clothes.  For a split second, his mind traveled to _very_ inappropriate thoughts before snapping back to reality.

“Maker, I am so sorry, Eve.”  Cullen whispered to himself, partly ashamed by his sudden sexual visions.  “I tried to warn you earlier.  I should have been more persistent.  Forgive me.”

Evie pulled back, tears rolling down her face, but her eyes burned with rage.  “I want to kill her!  I should have killed her…”

The commander pressed his lips to her pinching forehead as a new wave of sobs escaped the woman in his arms.  She leaned forward into his lips, gripping his neck tightly like he would disappear.  He ran his fingers up her neck, combing her now messy hair.  In soft circular motions, he massaged the nape of her tense neck. 

Her auburn waves felt different from that night in Redcliffe.  It was silky and encouraged his caress despite the terrible tumble falling unconscious.  During so many nights of sleeplessness, Cullen wondered what her curls felt like through his fingers again or how her skin may react to his touch.  His imagination never compared to the reality.  Her battered skin was smooth and silky against callused palms, while her hair ran like fiery water through his fingers.  She relaxed a little as he tightened and released his fingers, resting her head back down on his shoulder.  Her runny nose nuzzled his skin.  Her long eyelashes tickled his stubble neck, sending waves of shivers and excitement through his whole being.  With each circular squeeze, Evie’s breath slowed and her sobs dissipated.  If this happened again, he needed to remember this.  Hopefully, he could prevent this from happening again.

“…I was naked…alone standing there.”  Evie whimpered against his neck after some time.  “I wasn’t expecting her.  Of all people… _her_.  She held all the power, armored, and arms.  When Varric said her name, I almost vomited.  I fought my instinct, my rage not to set her ablaze.  I wanted to at least hear her out.  Yet, she acted like she never did anything wrong.”

Cullen sighed, leaning forward a little.  His stubble rubbed against her temple, brushing her bangs away from her redden cheeks.  “Yup, that’s Hawke.  The woman will never admit that she is wrong.  She refuses to take a side in a difficult situation.  And she keeps talking until she breaks you.  So, the complete opposite of you.”

Evie giggled a little, pulling him closer to her.  “…are you okay?”

“Now that I know you are safe, yes.”

The mage held her breath a few minutes.  “That’s not it, though.”  She pulled her head away from his shoulder, wiping away the remaining tears coating her glimmering eyes.  Her other hand laid on his shoulder, while she looked up at him with a scorn expression.  “I heard your panic, Cullen.  Your piano was all over the place.  Then, she said those awful things about you.  She had the nerve to call you indecisive.”

“When she knew me, yes, I was.”  Cullen ran his hand through his tossed hair.  “I should have acted sooner against Meredith.”

“But she’s no better!”  Evie snapped, flinging her feet over the desk to a sitting position.  She remained close to his body, gripping his leather doublet with both hands tightly.  She pulled him closer until their clothed chests rubbed together.  Her covered breasts perked upward as the leather corset vest tightened between them.  Cullen struggled to keep his amber eyes focused on her face and not her teasing cleavage peeking through the unbuttoned white tunic.  “She let that lunatic stand with her when all the signs were there that he was going to do something drastic.  Merrill was a blood mage!  Isabela stole from the Arishok.  She protected that pirate, while the Qunari tore apart Kirkwall.  Fenris-“

Evie froze, gripping her neck again.  Her bright green eyes widen as she felt where his claws dung into her skin.  “He…H-he almost…Maker, Cullen, if you didn’t show up-“

“I didn’t know Fenris was here too.”  Cullen growled, realizing if he was a second slower she would be dead.  “No wonder Hawke acted like she owned the place.”

“The man’s crazy!”  Evie wheezed, rubbing her sore neck.  “He gets his rocks off _seeing_ blood.  And because I’m a mage, he wouldn’t care that he killed me!  I want them gone!  I don’t care if they fought Corypheus-“

Cullen froze.  “Wait.  What?!”

“Hawke and Varric fought Corypheus, after everything in Kirkwall fell apart.  Varric knew about the magister the whole time!”  Evie hopped off his desk, finally realizing where she was.  “…why was I on your desk…?”  She looked at the east rampart door.  “And your door’s broken?”

Cullen sheepishly laughed, rubbing the back of his neck.  “I had to improvise.”

Evie shook her head, wincing when the motion stung her neck.  “Varric’s paying for that door…with a beating.”  The mage stomped out the door towards the east battlements.

“Wait!”  Cullen grabbed her around the waist, causing the woman to freeze in place and press herself against him.  Bent over in a standing spoon position, Cullen buried his face into the side of her neck, his chin pushing her collar aside.  The commander kept telling himself not to kiss the fine skin brushing his dry lips.  Once again, Cullen would have grabbed someone’s arm or another action, but he always had to hold Evie close.  His breath quickened, absorbing her orange and clove scent wafting off her hair.  “You need to be seen by a healer.  Your neck-“

“Afterwards…” she whimpered, somewhat pushing against his arms around her hips but with little force.  Her back and behind pushed back against his groin and chest.  She panted, losing her breath the longer they stood like that.  Every gasp slowly shifted to moans and whimpers of protests, rage, and yearning.  “They can heal my hands after I punch them all into a pulp.”

“Eve, the longer that bruise stays, the more people will see it tomorrow.”

Evie threw him a look over left shoulder, nearly meeting his lips with her own.  They were so close.  All that kept Cullen from kissing her was the scowling expression and harsh gaze across her flushing face.  “ _Good!_   The whole Inquisition will know what her rabid animal did to me.”

Cullen let go, pinching his nose.  He recognized the inappropriate way he held the woman, utilizing his templar resistance to not act on his arousal.  Evie started marching away again.  “Shit, Eve.  Stop!  They aren’t even out there any more-“

Evie stopped.  “Cole, where’s Varric?!”

Suddenly, a grey puff of smoke appeared on Cullen’s desk, causing the former templar to stumble backwards.  The sickly young boy sat cross legged, hiding under his hat.  “I am sorry, Candle.  I was with Dorian.  The armored elf is loud.  I could not hear well, could not hear you.  I knew Cullen was with you so I did not worry.  I am sorry.”

Evie pivoted on one foot.  “That’s fine.  Where’s Varric?”

The spirit’s hat covered his face as he began whispering.  “ _He’s running away!  He lied!  Of course he lied, the dimwitted ingrate.  To think I want the next chapter of_ Sword & Shields-“

Evie took off running.  “He’s with Cassandra!  Shit!  Wait for me, Seeker!”

Cullen blinked a few times, shaking his head.  “Wait!  Eve!”  The commander took off running after the mage.  Cole disappeared, responding to Evie’s mental dialogue.

 

* * *

 

Cullen heard the banging above him.  Evie raced forward towards the armory stairs, cursing under her breath.  She wheezed and coughed the whole way from his tower, but refused to stop.  Cullen jogged forward after her, not sure what to expect.  His eyes glanced upwards, seeing Cassandra chasing the dwarf around a table.  The seeker caught ahold of his tunic, slinging him into a chair with a grunt.

“You know where Hawke was all along!”  Cassandra hissed, forming a fist.

“You’re damn right I did!” Varric hollered back, jumping out of the chair and stabilizing himself against the table.  The dwarf looked already bruised up beyond what Cullen did earlier.

“You conniving little shit!” Varric weaved under her arm and away before she could hit his face.  Evie was almost upstairs when Cullen reached the staircase.

“You kidnapped me!  You interrogated me!  What did you expect!?”  The dwarf quizzed back.  His eyes widen seeing Evie by the banister.

“I expected you to tell the truth!  I _told_ you what was at stake!”  Cassandra growled, pulling at the air in front of her with her arm.

“We both expected that, you shit-stained fuck!”  Evie hollered, kicking over the table.

Cassandra threw at look at Evie.  Her espresso eyes widen.  “Maker guide us all!  What happened!?”

“This turd left me with that witch and her crazy boyfriend!”  Evie chased Varric around the other side of the loft.  The dwarf debated which woman was more dangerous.  His scared eyes locked on Cullen, causing him to back against the upper floor railing.

“H-how was I supposed to know Anders killed both of your brothers!?”

“ _He killed your brothers?!”_ Cassandra screamed, grabbed the dwarf by his tunic again and threw him against the wall.

“Ladies!” Cullen called, but only at his usual volume.  This whole show was actually quite entertaining.  Cassandra glanced at him, surprised to see the commander standing on the stairs.  “He knows he messed up.”

“Thanks, Curly!”  Varric cried, relieved the man was sticking up for him.

“Throw him over the ramparts into the moat.  No one can find the body then-“Cullen smirked evilly as both women lunged forward and grabbed Varric’s arms.

“Look!  I can explain!”  Varric pleaded, pulling himself away from the half-crazed women.  “Seeker, was I just supposed to hand her over to you!?  ‘It’s okay, Hawke!  This _zealot_ isn’t crazy. I promise!’  And Inquisitor, I thought you two would get along.  You’re very similar!”

Cullen winced, pinching his nose as Evie punched Varric square in his left eye.  “I wouldn’t guard a crazy mage with a demon of justice inside.  I don’t walk away from a city he blew up.  I don’t hide important information about an ancient magister who killed thousands of people!”

Cassandra threw Varric a look.  “You knew about Corypheus!?”

“I didn’t know he was involved!  I would’ve said something earlier if I had!”

Evie prepared a fireball, causing Cullen to grab her wrist and pull her away.  Knowing Cassandra at the moment, the seeker would not stop the mage from setting the dwarf on fire.  Evie glared at the commander, trying to squirm herself free.  Her wiggling hips dung into his core either to distract him or force him to let go.  Knowing Evie, it was both.  When it showed Cullen would not let go despite constantly telling his erection to go away, she relaxed the fire in her hand.  “What about the three weeks since Haven?!  What about if Hawke did not show up before another attack!?  Varric, you could have killed us all!”

Varric hung his head.  “Well, she’s with us now.  We’re on the same side!”

Cassandra shook her head, placing her hands on her hips.  “We all know whose side you’re on, Varric.  It will never be the Inquisition’s.  Even after the Conclave, when we needed Hawke most, you kept her secret.  Hawke would have been at the Conclave if you told us!  If _anyone_ could have saved the Most Holy…”

The armory fell quiet.  The three humans stood staring at the dwarf as Cassandra’s words bounced inside their skulls.  The realization sobered the commander so his inner thoughts shifted away from his heightened attraction.  Evie hung her head, slumped against the wooden chair so she would not fall over.  Varric looked the most conflicted and shocked by the events that night.

Evie spoke first, holding her bruising and bloodied neck.  “Go, Varric…Just…go.”

Varric stumbled past the three leaders towards the stairs.  As he started down, the dwarf stopped and looked back.  “You know what I think?  If Hawke had been at the temple, she’d be dead, too.  You people have done enough to her.”

No one else moved until they heard the armory door downstairs slam shut.  Cassandra sighed, sitting down in the chair.  Her legs stretched out in front of her and her shoulders pressed against the chair back.  Cullen leaned against the banister, rubbing his neck.  Evie purposely walked to his side and leaned against him with her full body weight.  Her unkempt auburn hair waved in his face.  The only person surprised by the action was Cullen, whose cheeks flashed pink for a few seconds.  His erection responded instantly, forcing to side step to hide his arousal. 

Cassandra broke the silence.  “I…believed him.  He spun his story for me, and I swallowed it.  If I’d just explained what was at stake.  If I’d just made him understand…but I didn’t, did I?  I needed to explain why we needed Hawke.  I am such a fool.”

Cullen knew what the seeker meant with her words, but he hoped she would keep it to herself.  Evie did not need to hear that Astrid Cousland-Theirin and Veronica Hawke were considered for Inquisitor, the two ‘heroes’ responsible for her loneliness and strife.  She already struggled with her new leadership role and as the Herald of Andraste.  Varric broke her trust that night, and the seeker only gained hers in the last few weeks. 

 “Have you looked at our Inquisition, Cassandra?”  Evie grinned at the woman.  “We’re all fools here.”                       

Both Cullen and Cassandra’s lips broke a small smile.  “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”  The seeker huffed after a few chuckles.

“More at home, maybe.”

Cassandra glanced at Evie’s neck.  “How did it happen?”

“Hawke was being Hawke and provoked Evie.”  Cullen explained, while Evie rubbed her throat.  “Evie threatened the mage, and Fenris took her by surprise and grabbed her neck.  I showed up just in time.”

“You are a well-trained mabari.”

Both Cassandra and Evie broke out into giggles.  Cullen pushed himself off the banister, edged Evie away, and meandered towards the stairs.  “Maker’s breath…”  Evie caught his elbow out of Cassandra’s eyesight to stop him from going any farther.

“Get checked out by Solas, Trevelyan, before Skyhold lynches them both.”  Cassandra remarked, hating she had to say that.  “If they know about Corypheus, we have to work with them.”

Evie squeezed his elbow, shaking.  “I know.  She has a contact in Crestwood.  A Grey Warden who knows about red lyrium and corruption in the warden ranks.  Most likely the magister.”  Her bright green eyes flashed up at Cullen, then Cassandra behind her.  “Call a meeting with the advisors first thing in the morning.  Then, I want all the Inner Circle present afterwards.  No more secrets, no more lies.  If one of them is holding anything important that can impact the Inquisition, they better only hope I only send the commander after them.  I don’t tolerate betrayal.  I expect it from Vivienne.  The woman is working for my sister.  I’m sure of it.  The others, there is no excuse.”

Cassandra nodded.  “Understood.  Cullen, make sure Solas sees her and that she is safe tonight.”

The commander nodded, allowing Evie to walk down the stairs first in front of him.  “Of course.”

 

* * *

 

Evie stared up at the winter sky’s stars as Cullen thanked the elven apostate again for tending to the Inquisitor so late.  The earlier healing potion repaired any inflicted damage, but the apostate could not diminish the swelling and bruising around her neck.  The elf suggested Evie wear a scarf for the next few days until it disappeared.  There was little he could do.

“Your room is this way.”  Cullen pointed through the atrium to the grand hall.  He stood by the door, waiting for her to reenter the castle.

“I don’t want to stay in my prison…”  Her voice was barely a whisper as her bright green eyes stared at him filled with sorrow.  “…Please?”

“I thought that is why you traveled to Val Royeaux.” Cullen remarked.  “So it didn’t feel like a Circle anymore.”

Evie glanced away, sighing.  “Yes…but, I don’t want to be alone.  I know the nightmares are waiting.  I know I will see the Chantry burning in my dreams and see everyone dead.”

Cullen closed the door to the atrium, joining her on the bridge.  He knew Evie never slept at night.  On his late night kitchen trips, he saw at least three candles burning on her desk or her standing on her balcony facing the Frostback Mountains.  She stayed in her room at Josephine’s pleading, but the commander knew she never felt like it was her space.  There were a few times during the last few nights where he almost offered a game of chess to occupy her mind.  However, it was inappropriate for him to be there so late and he did not know if she even played.  While Skyhold slept peacefully, they were always awake, fearing the terrors they may face in the Fade.

This was the first time Evie shared what her dreams entailed.  He motioned her across the bridge towards his tower, curious and worried.  “The Chantry?  At Haven?”

“No, Kirkwall.”

“You’ve been to Kirkwall?”

“No.”  She slowly walked beside him, holding herself close in the winter night.  She kept bumping into his left arm, hovering for a few seconds before separating again.  Her leather corset and long sleeve blouse barely kept out the winter cold.  “After being beaten by my cousins, I dreamed about my interpretation of Kirkwall’s Chantry.  I hear my sister’s insults the day I set the gazebo on fire over my mind’s image of what remained of the building.  After the Conclave, the nightmare included the flaming statues and Inquisition members.  Everyone was dead.  We died horrible ways like in that future.  The demons linger in the flames, waiting for their opportunity to take over me.  I wake before giving them a chance.  After going into the future and the envy demon, a new nightmare began where everyone’s decapitated heads are thrown at me before mine is removed by an executor.  Once again, the demons eat the flesh and blood.  The best way to prevent possession is to avoid sleep.”

By now, the former templar and fire mage stood in front of his office door.  He unlocked the main door, remembering the other side door was broken.  He would request a replacement in the morning.  He allowed Evie to walk in first, not sure what the mage was going to do if she did not want to go to her loft.  As Cullen closed the door behind him, Evie flicked her hands and relight his candles.  They must have gone out in the harsh mountain winds.

The mage panicked.  “I’m…I’m sorry.  I should have asked first.”

Cullen knew why she looked so frightened.  He rubbed his neck.  “No, I should apologize.  That night when you fell into the lake, I did not consider what happened to you.  The mark was torturing you.  I did not know you could not swim until Varric and Dorian told me a month later.  I stupidly thought back to my time as a templar…how I should ‘guard Haven’ from an ‘unstable mage.’  It took me awhile to realize that your magic is just a part of you.  I am no longer a knight who should be vigilant and look for possession.  If I continue like that, I will never leave behind the past and heal.”

“You were right though.”  Evie confessed.  “I did not know how to control the mark.  When it sparked earlier today, I knew I needed to be alone.  I couldn’t block out Hawke’s cello.  Now that I know it’s caused by two people, one with lyrium tattoos all over his body, I can adjust.”

“They’re cellos?” Cullen asked, watching her kneel down by his desk.  He realized she was cleaning up the floor of the scattered papers and objects.  The man rushed forward to stop her.

Evie threw him a look when he grabbed the parchment from her hands.  “Two very loud cellos.  I almost went insane.”

Cullen instead joined her, picking up the reports and requisitions he pushed off earlier.  “We will put distance between you and them then.  If you cannot properly think and work, then your health will suffer.  Well, beyond Fenris choking you that is.”

Evie smiled, then looked around the broken desk.  “Cullen, is that your breastplate?”

Cullen’s cheeks burned, seeing her questioning look.  He had to lie.  “U-uh…Your face was getting bruised against it, a-and I didn’t want to leave you, s-so I had to get rid of it f-fast-“

Evie’s bright green eyes softened with her growing beautiful smile.  “Thank you…for saving me _again_.  And for allowing me to cry.”  She flopped down on the floor, sighing loudly.  “Damn it, I can’t keep any promises.  I am horrible at this!  I am a terrible leader.  Maybe Hawke would have been a better Inquisitor!”

Cullen blinked a few times.  “You knew that is what Cassandra meant earlier?”  He sat down as well, resting his arm on his raised armored knee.

“It doesn’t take a scholar to know I fell into this position, Cullen.  Well, stumbled out of the Fade actually.”  The woman grinned, pulling her bangs behind her ear.  The commander fought the urge to weave his fingers through the curls again, wanting to be close to her again.  “I was surprised that all four of you agreed on naming me Inquisitor.  It is easy for me to criticize Hawke’s choices now because I know the consequences.  I just don’t want anyone coming along after we defeat Corypheus to resolve what the Inquisition fumbled.  Each advisor has experience in leadership except me.  I was a noble’s youngest daughter, then a sheltered Circle mage, and now I lead the most devout Andrastrians in southern Thedas.  All these different problems surround me.  I don’t know what to do first, let alone the right decision.  You all keep me going even when my temper explodes or when I cry over events that happened years ago.  When I sleep, I have nightmares.  I understand what to do to avoid possession.  Yet every day, I am in a living nightmare, fearing I am going to screw up and destroy the world.”

Cullen pushed himself off the floor, walking behind your desk.  “Well, let’s make sure you don’t suffer from either tonight.”

Evie slowly reached her feet, eying him while still holding a few stacks of parchment.  “How…?”

The commander smirked.  “Do you play chess?”


	12. I'm Alive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No! I wasn't a frustrated, yearning minx while I wrote this chapter. What gave you that idea?! ;)
> 
> Doesn't really need a NSFW warning, but just some content that you might want to hide from your boss if they read over your shoulder randomly.
> 
> Chapter Song: "All Around Me" by Flyleaf (Specifically the acoustic version)
> 
> Another favorite chapter. Who else wants the sexual tension to resolve soon? Let me know with kudos and comments!

Evie heard the raven’s wings flutter above her.  The bird gained lift and batted air against her flushed cheeks.  Her right arm supported her head, while a pillow pressed against the nape of her sore neck.  Her body ached despite lying on the comfortable feather bed.  She felt restrained.  It was difficult to breath.  He rubbed her dry throat, searching nearby for the water pitcher Fesill always left on her end stand.  She searched with her marked hand only feeling air.  Odd.  Without opening her eyes, she rolled on her back, reaching farther.  Her finger still only grazed air.

The Inquisitor sighed, rubbing her droopy, groggy eyes.  Her bangs batted against her cheeks.  Her hair was still down; surprisingly, not choking her as she slept.  Her hand pulled at her cheeks, then rested it on her stomach.  She felt leather and fur.  Why was she still dressed?

Evie’s bright green eyes flashed open, leaning forward.  This was not her room.  She scanned the darkness, unsure if she was in the Fade.  Her eyes adjusted to the blackness, distinguishing ridged shapes of a sparely furnished loft.  There were gaping holes in the wall and ceiling.  A tree and some vines grew out of the floor.  How did she end up in Cullen’s bed?  He had yet repaired the envy demon damage.  How did the commander not die of pneumonia yet, especially surrounded by tall snowy mountains? 

The mage glanced right, but found she was alone in bed.  A mixture of relief and anguished filled her soul.  Mostly anguish.  She hoped to just roll over and rest her head on his chest and fall back asleep.  Evie filtered through her memory for an explanation.  Her fingers lingered against her sensitive neck.  Fenris almost killed her last night, probably a few bells ago according to the dark winter sky out the collapsed roof.  Evie’s last visions in her hazy mind focused on a chess match, while sitting on Cullen’s office floor.  They shared a bottle of whiskey he hid in a broken desk drawer.  She did not drink much since that was not her style of liquor, but it must have caused her to fall fast asleep after a long exhausting few days.

Both as a gentlemen and a fiend, Cullen allowed her to sleep in his dilapidated loft.  In one aspect, thank goodness it was still dark so Evie could wander back to her tower unseen.  However, Evie just wanted to roll back over and breathe in his scent.  His bed was new, not the bloodied, moldy mattress she used a week or so ago.  The sheets were cotton, soft and warm.  She glanced down at her legs.  He left his coat and mantle covering her body along with a few wool blankets.

Maker’s arse, Evie was hopeless.  She cupped her head in her hands, mentally slapping herself.  Every time something bad happened, Cullen was there.  When she cried, it was on his shoulder.  If she acted irrational, he stopped her rage and cared for her until she returned to her stable senses.  She should not be Inquisitor.  She was too broken, too reliant on the commander to think and act properly. 

Yet, the former templar was broken too.  She heard his piano throughout the whole fiasco with Hawke.  Rage and misery played in sync within himself and with her lonesome violin.  He understood, although the reasons alluded her except for the few details he slipped in conversations.  Cullen acted and looked better when he assisted Evie.  They balanced one another.

Evie flopped back down on the bed, burying her face into his pillow and mantle.  Each deep breath absorbed more of the Feraldan’s intoxicating scent.  She felt herself become slowly wet, soaking her small clothes.  Evie’s sexuality never matured like most adults, but this man drove her lustily mad.  After waking from his silence and beating up Varric, the mage made sure she was right beside Cullen, touching him somehow.  Her fingers yearned for him, searched hungrily for his security and warmth.  Every time he grasped her, she shuddered and leaned into him, hoping he would nudge her chin and envelope her lips with his own.  She felt his callused fingers against the nap of her neck and stoking her hair, sending all the pain away and igniting a dying flame inside of Evie.  She felt alive with him.  She felt like she could do anything if he just held her, kissed her forehead.

Evie rubbed her forehead, her burning embarrassed face still buried in his pillow.  His lips were somewhat chapped, probably because he used all his energy with the silence dispel.  Without lyrium, templars’ abilities suffered considerably.  They could still smite and dispel, but they used their stamina quickly and left them weak for days.  Cullen sacrificed his strength to stop her.  Her mind wondered back to his lips against her skin.  Cullen’s rugged stubble brushed her temple and cheek.  If _she_ had angled her head just a little more, her mouth and his would have melded together.  Evie nearly acted on her impulses and absorbed his taste in the grandest kiss.  The man never did anything half-done.  It would be overpowering and addicting.

Her groin ached more as the Inquisitor moaned a little.  She needed to settle down.  She might crumble in the commander’s bed and would have to explain it somehow.  What if he came up his ladder and notice her grinding herself against the sheets and flushing?  How would he act?  Most likely mortified by her acts, calling her a pervert, ruining their budding friendship.  Yet, a small part of her heart stated he may even join her ending _both_ of their suffering after so many months in each other’s company, craving a resolution to their little, tense dance.

When Evie stated last night she did not want to go back to her ‘prison,’ her intentions and mind focused on his bed actually, his personal space.  She just never imagined she would wake here.  The mage just did not want to leave his side.  Every day, the title Inquisitor grew heavy, even though she only led the organization for a few weeks.  All she wanted was him.  All she needed was him.  Evie would willing give the Anchor to Corypheus if it just meant she could be with Cullen for the rest of her life.  Wake up beside him every morning.  Run her fingers through his sculpted hair, messing up his silly style to discover why he hid its true nature. 

Evie pushed herself out of bed, forcing herself back to harsh reality.  There will be no Thedas unless she stops the magister.  There will be no Cullen, only that hideous red nightmare she killed in the alternate future.  Her hand rubbed against her neck again.  She gasped.  It was missing.  It must have fallen when Fenris grabbed her and she fell.  She hopped out of the bed, hurrying to the trap door, shut and latched over the ladder. 

The amber focus stone was gone.  In Val Royeaux, Evie had a jeweler cut the focus stone into a pair of studded earrings and a pendant that could slip onto different chains and chokers.  The craftsman worked fast.  She picked it up right as they left the capital yesterday morning.  The mage decided she wanted Cullen with her everywhere even if she could not be _with_ him.  No one knew, except Dorian, what that amber meant.  It was her precious little secret, one of very few happy ones she kept to herself.

Opening the trap door, Evie climbed down, walking quickly across the office towards the broken and smashed door.  She froze when a small growl alerted her.  Her bright green eyes flashed left.  She beamed, giggling a little.  Her hand touched her lips, trying to contain the chuckles as her legs pivoted and sneaked left.

Like the moment she woke in the tent following Haven, Cullen’s head hung forward with his arms crossed over his chest.  His chest lifted upwards with each steady breath.  On exhale, a small snooze escaped his nose and lips.  Thank the Maker Evie knew this little tidbit about the commander.  Other people were probably aware, but _she_ knew.  He knew she snorted with she laughed too much.  It was the little things that brightened her fractured soul.

Evie’s mind forgot her amber choker for a few moments.  The mage could not deny watching this man get a few moments of sleep, although behind his desk with stacks of work laying about.  He needed to delegate requisitions, troop assigns, and supply lines or he would explode.  The Herald blushed as her minded drifted that he could release inside her in pure, invigorating rapture.  Where did that come from?!

The chess set laid on the desk corner along with the empty bottle of whiskey.  It was only half full when they started playing chess before she passed out.  The woman never could play the game well, nearly losing horribly against her handsome opponent.  Yet, he played fair and nearly trounced her, but they never finished the game before she passed out.  She hated when people did not give their all.  Cullen poured himself into everything:  command, advice, focus, strength…the list would span sheets upon sheets of vellum.  The mage smirked thinking what sparring was going to be like with the commander.  Maker help her, Evie might jump him if he pinned her just once.

That was a fantasy she had to play out later alone, _very_ alone.

Evie sat on the edge of his desk, entranced by the sleeping ex-templar before her.  Cullen looked horribly uncomfortable.  At least he removed his greaves at some point.  His armor laid nicely on his nearby armor stand.  She noticed he added stuffed practice dummies in one corner of his office along with some throwing knives stuck in the wall, probably when he needed a few minutes to release hia frustration.  Once again, Evie would volunteer immediately if he ever offered.  One throwing knife struck right through a stupid banana-colored Orlesian mask’s eye socket.  Maker, this man was a Fereldan for sure. 

The office explained the commander greatly, the aspects of his life he allowed people to observe.  In one corner was a growing number of books on military history and tactics.  She saw several book stacks like that in Haven’s command tent.  Among every few dozen books were a random one titled fairytales and Fereldan legends, which seemed completely out of place.  The corner by the broken door and the main door was empty.  It needed a comfy chair or somewhere he could relax if his withdraw distracted him.  His current old desk chair was probably killing his back.  The man deserved something with leather padding and supporting arms.  The desk was a rotting piece of shit that groaned when she sat on the edge.  Josephine needed to order a new, sturdier desk like an Orlesian Palais executive desk or a partner’s writing desk.  It needed to fit his official station and honor his dedication to the Inquisition.

Unconsciously, the Inquisitor dusted some blond hair from his forehead.  It curled upon her touch.  The office was damp from the late night air.  His blond hair was disheveled and unkempt, giving hints of what he hid from her view.  She smelled her hand that touched the blond waves.  Sage.  That is where the sage scent came from.  Sage was a useful alchemy component that she personally enjoyed using.  Whatever he used on his hair, the herb must be intermixed.  Of course, he smelled of campfire smoke from all the different warm spots around Skyhold.  What about the lavender?

An idea stuck the mage suddenly as she climbed back up the loft.  Her high heel boots clicked against the unfinished hardwood floor, causing the commander to stir a little.  She returned a moment later with his mantle coat.  She needed to leave and prepare for the meetings today.  She must prepare for Hawke.  Evie shook out the coat and slowly draped it over the sleeping man, grinning softly at his cute relaxed face.

Reluctant, Evie stepped away for the battlements.  She would retrieve her amber necklace and return to her room.  Fesill probably is panicking somewhere, thinking she was kidnapped.  The mage slowly pulled the broken door open where Cullen pushed the rubble into the doorway to block out the wind.  Her boot caught the broken wrought iron lock on the ground.  It clanged a few times, causing Evie to freeze.

“Thank goodness you didn’t become a rogue.  You’re horrible at stealth.”

Maker’s arse, that husky Fereldan voice immediately made her soak her loins.  She leaned against the doorframe, glancing through her bangs at the man leaning forward and placing his coat on his desk.  She prayed he did not see her redden face and aching expression.  Now that he was wake, Evie fought her urges to walk over, straddle his lap, and passionately kiss him.  If his voice made her swoon, what could the rest of him do with her?

“I guess I should thank you for putting me to bed?”  Her voice was rough and coarse from her bruised neck and dry mouth.

“You passed out suddenly.  You were telling a story about Ostwick’s revered mother.”  Cullen chuckled, stretching and getting out of his chair.  A few cracks and aches echoed throughout the office.  “One moment, you were complaining about prayer while making a silly chess move.  The next your head thumped against the desk and your mouth gapped like a goldfish.”

The mage sheepishly laughed, scratching her head.  “Yeah, I have the tendency of closing my eyes and being in deep sleep within a few moments.  Sera thinks I was a cat in a previous life, napping in the strangest positions and places.”

Cullen neared her, causing Evie to tense and stare out at the stone battlements.  Her back bumped against the doorframe, glancing over her shoulder as he stood behind her.  His majestic scent wafted towards her as she felt his breath on her left cheek.  She could not breathe.  If she turned a little, he would be right against her.  All she would need to do was lift her head a little and press her lips to his.  He could lean his cut body against her small frame, and they would blend together.  She would not be able to pull away.  She needed to _leave_.

“Would you like some tea?”

Evie blinked a few times, pulling herself out of her fantasy.  “What?”

“Follow me.”

 

* * *

 

“Commander Cullen Rutherford is a tea drinker…?” Evie giggled, sitting on the chef’s stool in the kitchens.  In front of her was Cullen preparing some mugs on the cutting board table waiting for the water to boil.  “You know I could heat that for you.” She pointed at the kettle on the large potbelly stove.

“Leave it alone, Eve.  Everything is done a specific way.”  Cullen used his commander voice, low and stern.  Once again, Evie flushed as yet another bedroom vision brushed her mind.  Where was this coming from?!  She has never been this hot and bothered!

Evie glanced the kitchens, surprised the cooks and servants had not woke for breakfast.  On their walk over from his tower, the ringer tolled the fifth morning bell.  The party last night began at the twenty-first bell.  She maybe slept four bells in his tower and he less.  Since it was winter, the sun would not rise for another bell.  They had plenty of time to separate without suspicion, sans the black and blue bruise around her neck.  Some kinky nobles would probably assume things were nasty and rough last night in her bedroom.  The fire mage wished they were just to unleash the infuriation pulsing within her folds.

Maker strike her down, the Herald of Andraste was a horny minx right now. 

Evie needed to take a _very_ cold bath before facing that Kirkwall witch.  If Hawke was anything like her sister, the mage will read her state of mind immediately and use it against her.  She needed to leave now!  “You haven’t told me why a big macho templar drinks such a flowery tea?  I figured you a coffee man or even cocoa.  Iron Bull won’t start the day without his cocoa and milk.”  Evie explained, ignoring what she should do.  She must remember she does the opposite of what she says on personal matters.

Cullen shook his head, preparing the dried lavender tea in the bags of cheese cloth and tying the tops with string.  “What is wrong with drinking tea?  Especially for a macho _ex_ -templar, by the way.”

“I am aware of your former role, Commander.”  She sassed him, leaning forward a little.  Her breast pressed against the top of her half-buttoned tunic and leather corset vest.  “It is just something I didn’t expect.”

Cullen smirked, keeping his ember eyes to the task.  His scarred lip twitched with that smile that nearly made Evie melt off the stool.  “There are many things about me that you won’t expect.”

Evie prayed her face was in shadow enough to cover her twisted mind right now.  Oh, the fire mage could hypothesize a few like lasting several rounds without batting an eye.  Andraste’s burning robes, she could not think of anything _not_ sexual.  “I can only imagine.”  She whimpered, causing him to cackle a little.  She needed to get herself out of this lusty mindset.  Her mind suggested something that could cool this whole potential relationship. “Probably like you made a vow of celibacy to show your dedication to your previous vocation?”

Cullen’s cheeks flushed purple in the fireplace light as he glanced at his steaming water.  “I-No.  I made no such vows.” 

“ _Really?_ ”  Evie giggled, seeing the shy Chantry boy appear in his awkward stance.  Thank the Maker for that, although it just exacerbated her current urges. “Well, that’s good to know.”

He pulled his cheeks and chin.  “M-maker…C-can we get b-back to the original topic, p-please?”

Evie continued to chuckle behind her bangs, crossing her legs and bouncing her foot.  The man rolled his gold eyes and avoided her innocent flirting as much as possible.  “You minx…”  He muttered under his breath, only heightening her giggles. 

Cullen cleared his throat once glancing at the teasing leader.  “Leliana started me on tea.”  His voice turned soft and weak.  “In the Order, all the templars met and drank our morning philters together.  It was a time to talk and begin the day.  You are well aware how silent templars are in the Circle.  Before we left the barracks, it allowed us to wake up and speak like before preparing for a tough Harrowing.  When I joined the Inquisition, many templars from the Free Marches followed me.  They were fed up with what the Order became and wanted to _serve_ people.  I no longer participate in that morning banter.  I avoid it because just the smell of lyrium invokes migraines and tremors.  I cannot start the day like that on top of already not sleeping.  One morning in Haven, I saw Leliana preparing tea.  I watched intently at the process.  It was an action that required concentration with a sweet reward, much like when templars prepare lyrium.  I adopted it immediately.”

Evie nodded, remembering such morning traditions on her family’s estate in her youth.  “I see.  I feel honored being introduced.  You know, lavender is very beneficial, especially for your withdraw.  It helps with anxiety, stress, inflammation from the pain and aches, and sleep.  I’m surprise you do not fall asleep during the day drinking it so early.  It’s also good for your hair, and we all know you worry about that, Commander.”

Cullen scowled at her.  “I get enough teasing from Josephine and Leliana.  I don’t need you too.”

“Remember, I’m determined to mess it up sometime.”  Evie smirked devilishly.  “I want to see why Varric calls you ‘Curly.’”

The commander ran his hand through his hair, grimacing.  The water started to boil, drawing his attention away.  He kept tugging at the waves through his golden mane.  “If I must wear a helmet to avoid embarrassment, I will, Inquisitor.”

Evie winced, hearing her title.  She sunk into her seat, holding herself closely.  Cullen must have noticed, while pouring the water over the tea bags.  “Does it bother you that much?”

The mage bit her lip.  She needed to select her words carefully not to expose her growing emotions.  “I thought breaking my phylactery and leaving my former life behind would be releasing.  Yet, I’ve traded one chain for another.”  She studied her marked hand, tracing the glowing green gash a few times.  “No one else here knows me like you, Cullen.  And yet, I’ve only scratched the surface about the terrible events in my life.  Here, the noble gilded cage and the magic institution’s high walls still exist, but now add the holy messenger of Andraste and Thedas’ only hope.  I want to help people, end the chaos.  I just never imagined I would be the _only_ one who can do it.  I’m building this new persona that Cole describes as ‘snuffing out my flame.’  I’m sick of wearing masks.  I must put everything personal aside and be the world’s light, the beacon in the darkness.  It’s only been a little over two weeks.  An ancient magister wants to breach the Veil and become a god.  The Templar Order became red monsters led by an addict.  The Venatori are mages more sinister than blood magic with a former slave wishing to bring back former Tevinter.  Now, the Grey Wardens may have fallen under the monster’s control and incited the next Blight.  Astrid or Veronica didn’t have to do all of this.  One mess maybe, but not all.  Is it unfair to just want one thing to hold onto so the real me is not lost in all the chaos?”

“What _do_ you want, Eve?”  Cullen’s amber eyes reflected all his emotions right then.  His piano played the most sorrowful music, weeping for her and yearning to heal her.  She feared he would directly ask that question.

“A smile.  A genuine smile.”  She whispered, tears welling in her eyes.  “Only one… _essence_ can give me something so simple.”

Cullen walked around the cutting broad table with the two pewter mugs.   He handed one to Evie.  Her hands were shaking.  His thumb and index finger brushed her skin briefly, sending shockwaves through her soul.  “Follow me.  I want to show you something.”

The commander’s face shifted to the most serious expression.  He was a man on a mission as he marched towards the kitchen door to the grand hall.  Evie lingered on her stool, taking a single sip of the special tea.  It was perfect.  Sweetness and bitterness mixed to create a calm and soothing harmony.  A hint of honey roamed on her lips just like Cullen’s taste on the Carnel bottle.  Her violin, so distant the Fade, awoke and purred to life.  She smiled a little, sliding off the stool and followed the man who could only bring joy into her life.

Cullen escorted her to the lower chambers of Skyhold.  The small hall was still filled with debris and rotten wood from excavations.  He directed her towards a torn down wall to the right.  He pointed, saying nothing.  Evie inched forward, curious and frightened at the same time.  Her high heel boots stepped and weaved around the rubble, until her bright green eyes fixed to a long dark hallway.  She flicked her fingers, conjuring a candlelight ball.  She pushed it forward down the hidden area.  Bookshelves and cobwebs lined the hallway to a circular room with a large reading desk and ancient texts.

Evie’s grateful eyes glanced at Cullen behind her.  He nodded.  “Gatsi found it yesterday when testing foundation strengths.  He believes there is another passage beyond this old library, probably connected to the first ancient structure originally here.  Most books are in elven, but I know you are studying the language with Solas.  After you passed out last night, I thought about this place.  It’s close to a small wine cellar down the hall so you could store your liquor collection from specific sneaky companions, and you can slip away without having to run to my tower all the time.  Josephine caught on to you always hiding in my loft, by the way.  I…haven’t entered, but I know you like little tight places.  I hope it is a sanctuary for you.”

Evie covered her mouth with one hand, while holding her mug of lavender tea in the other.  “Thank you…”  She whispered through her fingers. 

“My honor, Milady.”

“Will you come and see me?  When I disappear?”

Cullen winced, hanging his head.  “We’ll see.”

The mage knew not to ask too much.  Cullen had reasons for everything he does and how he does it.  That was one of his most charming quality.  She marched over to him, grabbed his rough free hand and smiled.  “Let’s watch the sunrise on the ramparts and drink our tea.”

He shook his head, first glancing at her clasped hand around his palm and then the beaming Inquisitor before him.  The bashful, innocent Chantry boy stared at her. “W-ait…W-what?”

Evie grinned happily, tugging on his hand excitedly.  “Come on!  I want to show you something!”

Cullen could barely catch up with her as she pulled him up the stairs and through the grand hall.  The sun would rise shortly.  Instead of viewing it on the mountain passage, they could gaze upon it on their new home where Cullen would always be when she returned from missions, Skyhold.  Evie’s heart sang, feeling alive and full with music.  Tea and honey still lingered on her plump lips.  Blissful tears tickled her long eyelashes.  Although her bruised neck ached, last night was a blur.  That morning brought joy into Evie’s lonesome heart.

No one noticed them jogging across the courtyard up the battlements to where they met Hawke just hours before.  Evie’s eyes scanned the stone on the outcrop for her amber pendant.  The rising sun engulfed the heavens, staining the sky clouds with an array of orange, pinks, and reds.  She never let go of Cullen’s hand as she hopped happily, noticing the choker casted to the side against the wall.  She picked it up and dusted it off.

“See!  Here, look through it into the rising sun!”  Evie instructed and finally let go of his shaking hand, holding the amber stone out in front of her.  Sun rays refracted and glimmered through the bits of brown and black debris trapped ages ago in the ancient pine resin.  “Also, it does this!”  Evie pulled energy from the stone, creating golden flames that lifted the amber out of her hand and hovered.

“A focus crystal…”  Cullen realized.  His head bobbled around the stone and the flames in her hands.  “I thought most crystals’ power waned when cut small.”

“This crystal…”  Evie’s joy dissipated.  She forgot _how_ she obtained the amber.  She bit her lip.  He deserved to know.  “…I found it on…a red templar.”

“That very dangerous, Eve!”  Cullen’s templar pitch accented his words.  “Just being in proximity of something connected with red lyrium can cause paranoia.  It could be infected-“

Evie grinned.  “This was not any red templar…it was you.”

Cullen froze, staring at her in disbelief.

The mage sighed, allowing the flames to disappear.  She cupped the stone pendant in her hands.  “When I…killed you in the future, this was tucked deep into your body…by your heart.  I know it was risky, but I had to keep it.  I threw one similar off a cliff in the Frostbacks months ago.  I had a jeweler make this into a silverite jewelry set so I can wear it everywhere.  So I can have _you_ everywhere.”

Cullen paused, running his hand through his hair.  He was thinking very quickly with his darting eyes, smirking every so often.  The commander kept his thoughts to himself never saying a word.  Evie did not mind.  She hinted at her growing feelings for him, how he was her genuine smile.  If nothing came from it, it did not matter.  They could never be together.  She must remain the grand Herald of Andraste.  Cullen must be her commander and confidante. 

The sun rose slowly over the Frostbacks, shimmering light over Skyhold.  Neither Inquisitor nor Commander spoke.  Their attention focused on the natural spectacle the Maker provided each dawn.  Every so often, they sipped their lavender tea.  The former templar and the fire mage simply enjoyed one another’s presence in the moment, never wishing for it to end.


	13. Letters Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that anything italicized for long periods of text is meaning to be letter writing. I wish AFOO had many fonts to select. In the chapters I am writing right now, it would make it so useful!
> 
> Chapter Song: "Counting Stars" by OneRepublic
> 
> So, I am doing something different for Friday. I have been very sick the last few weeks. My migraines and neuropathy has not allowed me to write new chapters. In hopes to assuage my pain, I wrote a side piece I have been toying with for a while. It works VERY well following this chapter, and might become added treats for you all in the future. Keep a look out. Hopefully, my brain will leave me alone for a few days so I can hammer out some new chapters. I hate being so far behind! It makes the breaks between parts that much longer for you all. :(

The two weeks in Crestwood felt like a lifetime. 

What the Inquisitor witness in this small hamlet on Ferelden’s coast would give anyone nightmares.  If they were not investigating the Grey Wardens, the Inquisition would have placed the location lower on the list of fade rift closures.  Evie could only be in one place at a time.  She alone carried the Anchor, the manipulator of tears in the Veil.  If the warden had not hid here, this place might have been destroyed and its inhabitants dead much like their relatives ten years ago.  Suddenly, the weight of so many lives weighted on Evie’s soul.  How many fade rifts existed through Thedas?  How many were tearing villages and people apart waiting for her to come and rescue them?

Evie shifted priorities following meeting Hawke.   The Emerald Graves must wait to save the Grey Wardens from Corypheus, especially if the magister incentivized a blight.  On a personal level, the Inquisitor wished get rid of Hawke as quickly as possible.  The partners’ cellos disrupted her magic and her control over the mark.  She noticed their presence unnerved the commander constantly.  The mage felt the need to protect Cullen from any harm the apostate may inflict.

 During that morning meeting with the advisors, Hawke and Fenris discussed their red lyrium investigation and all information they knew about Corypheus.  Hawke’s warden contact could only remain in Crestwood for a few weeks before needing to move again.  Their one opportunity to speak with a senior warden trumped any mission at the moment.  Evie ‘advised’ Hawke and Fenris to leave as quickly as possible for Crestwood.  Scout Harding and a contingent of Inquisition scouts traveled to the hamlet to secure an Inquisition base.  The two former Kirkwall residents preferred moving quickly and alone, relying on themselves than unknown soldiers.  Evie agreed to the separate movement plan.  The sooner their cello blaring left her fortress, the better she could think clearly.  Furthermore, the Inner Circle might kill them both after they saw Evie’s neck. 

Evie’s team left a day later following a very awkward lecture from the Inquisitor.  All twelve Inner Circle members gathered in the War Room to a two bell lecture regarding trust.  The mage laid out her history of abuse to explain her trust issues.  She left out important details, such as the lash scars on her back, the nightmares, and how her brothers died.  Most members knew the last fact already after hearing about the exchange between Hawke and Evie the night before.  The Inquisitor warned if someone was holding information that could hinder or benefit the Inquisition during their fight against Corypheus, they would be arrested and judged accordingly.  She did not need to know about their past, and they did not need to tell everyone, just her.  She would work with every person in confidence.  She believed she was being fair, giving them a chance before they may betray her later.

The Herald regretted not specifying her threat also applied to the advisors, Leliana specifically.  The spymaster was known to keep people’s secrets as leverage.  The rogue would not be good at her job if she did not keep her mouth shut.  Yet, Evie decided on international matters that could change the course of Thedas.  If Leliana knew something and never spoke, and that included information about the Inner Circle, Evie would not hesitate to take drastic action once the conspiracy emerged. 

Cullen received his minor punishment for withholding about his lyrium use.  He must face scrutiny from Skyhold’s inhabitants, especially Sera, by being barked at for his mabari behavior.  The commander did not appreciate the joke, but he understood why Evie used his case as an example of how something so simple could destroy the Inquisition.  Everyone at the meeting agreed to keep his condition private until he felt he comfortable informing others.  The mage prayed he may share his experience with the other templars, partly to reconnect and find comradery he lacked now.  He might convince other knights to break the Chantry chains.

Josephine met with her later in her tower, asking if the Inquisitor could accompany her to Val Royeaux in the near future.  She had a family issue involving debt that might be used as blackmail against the Inquisition.  She had been resolving the issue privately until she discovered carriers holding important trade permission documents were murdered.  The reinstatement forms they carried were burned at the scene.  Evie appreciated her honesty and agreed to another trip to the Orlesian capital.  Josephine stated she would organize the travel along the same time Evie met with the Imperial Court to avoid excessive trips.

No other Inner Circle members admitted anything to her.  No one had pertinent information that could aid or harm their fight against the magister.  Evie struggled the entire ride to Crestwood, scanning her comrades for potential spies or malcontents.  Vivienne was always a threat.  That was evidently clear.  Evie enjoyed sending her on missions requiring mundane actions or hard labor.  The Iron Hag never experienced what the common people endured daily.  She was a privileged mage who lived among the nobility.  Evie could say the same, but she did not wave her status around like a large sea silk banner connected to the chip on her shoulder.  The more Evie tortured the bitch, the more she knew the retribution would be harsh, but she wanted the mage to overreact.  Evie wanted Vivienne to snap and expose Patricia’s involvement.

Varric became the official liaison between the Inquisitor and Hawke.  No one asked about his black eye or why he looked like he was mauled by a bear.  The dwarf was lucky Iron Bull did not tear him to pieces.  He knew he screwed up, keeping his head down unless spoken to during the meeting.  Evie forgive him publicly, but everyone knew the writer would not be in her good graces for a long time.    Varric was sent ahead with Scout Harding so if Hawke needed support, at least she could reach a familiar Inquisition member.

Cassandra still wanted to eat Varric and spit out his bones.  The seeker mumbled and groaned the whole meeting, eying the dwarf like she could draw her sword and cut of his head at any moment.  Evie stated they must show they can merciful as well as threatening.  The Inquisition would not be tyrannical and abusive.  They  _fought_ those attributes.  It was easy to become one of them if their leader did not keep restraint.  The mage admitted her fallacy from last night.  Her personal feeling overtook the purpose.  She was human.  Emotion can control people, but do not let them define the person.  The Inquisitor thanked her companions, reminding them and herself she was not alone and they supported and advised her throughout their essential mission.

The Inquisitor’s first hint of a liar among the group occurred when they met Ser Jean-Marc Stroud.  The senior warden spoke about the Calling and their troubles within the warden ranks.  When Evie questioned Blackwall, the man admitted he had heard it but he did not fear it.  He withheld that he was dying, even though it is a false calling.  He risked the Inquisition instead of performing the Grey Warden’s right to travel to Orzammar.  The warrior stated the Calling could take months or years.  He was thankful he did not go to the Deep Roads like his comrades.

Stroud muttered another concern later as he packed his belongings for the Western Approach.  He stated he did not sense Blackwall.  Wardens sense darkspawn  _and_  their fellow members through the Blight.  That was how the senior warden evaded the Grey Wardens hunting him currently.  Blackwall never alerted Stroud when they entered the smuggler’s cave.

Evie thought back to her quick discussion with the warrior a couple of weeks ago regarding hiding in Skyhold during the Fifth Blight.  The warrior stated he only remained at the fortress for a time, wishing to reenter Ferelden to save more people from the Blight.  Every time someone confronted him with a strange fact, he always had an answer, although vague. 

Alarms rang in Evie’s soul.  Her nagging intuition saved her life many times in past and protected Haven from a massacre.  The bearded gentlemen knew more than he stated.  She could not risk herself and the organization if he betrayed them.  The Inquisitor sent a direct missive to Josephine, instructing her to hold using the Grey Warden treaties Blackwall had provided.  Evie already hesitated using the resources at first because there were no signs of a Blight.  With Blackwall possible treachery and Stroud’s assurance that darkspawn were not rising from the Deep Roads, Evie felt the Inquisition did not need the conscripted assistance.  However, the Herald carefully worded the order to avoid upsetting her ambassador.  It was public knowledge that the warden and the Antivan fancied one another.

Evie stared out the small window in her room at Caer Bronach, tapping her quill against a piece of parchment.  At least the stormy weather disappeared and allowed the sun to come out that evening.  It was as if the Maker responded to the resolutions she completed in the troubled region.   Every time she assisted a population, the heavens seem to respond.   Each day Evie’s faith strengthened.  That she was meant for this.  Her whole life prepared her for now.  Yet, she cursed the beautiful sky and the Maker for hurting His faithful so evilly because a few men walked into His city uninvited.

Indigo ink stained Evie’s hands, while lists and letters covered the makeshift writing desk facing the small window.  A half empty bottle of Grey Warden Conscript whiskey sat beside her almost empty inkwell.  It tasted nothing like the whiskey she broke when she was a child and did not fill her with happiness like her late night drinking with Cullen a few weeks before.  Before the Inquisitor left the area, she needed to send multiple letters to her advisors and local leaders regarding the events in the village.  The mage’s mind wandered between thoughts as her bright green eyes scanned the list of topics she needed to cover in each missive:  the Blight, treachery, Grey Wardens, bandits, missing merchants and travelers, new agents, new base of operations, and a dragon.  The last will upset the commander greatly.

Evie bit her lower lip.  She avoided thinking about the handsome Fereldan since leaving Skyhold.  Her mind, body, and soul focused on the mission and jumped into action like she never was wounded after Haven.  She resumed training with Iron Bull again in the evenings, and her body responded well despite weeks of bedrest.  At night, everyone slept in their tents.  Evie wore her cloak to block out the terrible weather, finding a perch on a rock face or in a bush.  Alone and cold, the woman could not block out her realized emotions for the commander.  Her body ached for his warmth and touch.  Her soul yearned for his husky voice and deep chuckles.  Her mind wanted to relax knowing he was protecting her.  Sleep claimed her while she imagined those fantasies that kept crossing her mind that long night.  In the mornings, she drank lavender tea, adopting Cullen’s ritual to have some connection to him while on the field.

Evie caught herself playing with the amber stone hanging around her neck.  Her body always responded that way every time the commander crossed her mind.  Cullen never responded to her gemstone confession on the ramparts.  He simply sipped his tea and watched the sun rise over the mountains with a giant grin on his face.  The dark circles were almost gone.  He stood straight and tall beside her.  His hands were still.  His piano played the gentlest piece she ever heard.  He was at rest, relaxed, and happy.  Her confession regarding the focus stone either did not bother him or he knew more than he would share.

Evie dropped the quill in her right hand and the amber stone in the left.  She frosted her fingertips and rubbed her temples.  Even though she was alone in a small room alone in the outpost, she needed to work.  She allowed her mind to wander at night when she could not sleep, but she must write and send these letters before leaving tomorrow.

The Inquisitor grasped a completed letter to King Alistair to review if she stated everything the king needed to know:

_Your Royal Fereldan Majesty, King Alistair Theirin…_

_…Or “Little Muddy Ali”,_

_As Inquisitor, I must inform you of a great number of tragedies within your realm.  The Inquisition has closed a major fade rift in the hamlet of Crestwood, part of the region ruled by the Bann of West Hill.  The rift opened in the caverns below the lake, reviving the dead drowned during the Fifth Blight.  Upon releasing the dam controls, we discovered the fate of Old Crestwood.  The mayor, Gregory Dedrick, lied to the Fereldan people and Inquisition officials to why the settlement flooded ten years ago.  He claimed the darkspawn broke the controls before the people could escape.  Actually, the local official ordered a villager named Robert to open the flood gates and drown the infected villagers and refugees they had taken in to avoid further illness.  The villager Robert hung himself a few weeks later, unable to live with the guilt.  Dedrick continued serving as mayor to this day as if he played no role in the deaths of possibly hundreds of people._

_Since becoming king, you must have heard of many instances of bad judgement and hastily reactions during the Blight.  However, the fate of Old Crestwood shook my soul and left me questioning the Maker to why He inflicted His followers with such a damning sinful disease.  When I went to confront the mayor regarding his treachery, Dedrick fled the region._

_I have notified Sister Leliana to search for the fugitive and arrest him unharmed.  I write to request your opinion on who should judge this pitiful excuse of a human being.  As a Grey Warden and the king, you should have full rights to his outcome, but I have a suggestion to his punishment.  Yet, that leads me to the second purpose for this correspondence._

_The Inquisition’s purpose in Crestwood is in regards to the recent disappearance of Grey Warden throughout Ferelden and Orlais.  A senior warden rejected the Warden-Commander of Orlais’ orders and ran from his fellow members to investigate what has gripped the order.  This member admitted some vital information about the wardens that I understand you would keep to yourself.  He stated Grey Wardens began hearing the Calling months ago, believing they were all dying from the Blight._

_This informant and I both agree that this is Corypheus.  His archdemon and he are manipulating this frightening revelation to force the wardens to act drastically.  Warden-Commander Clarel de Chansen believes a potential blood ritual could empower the order to fight one last stand against the darkspawn before they all die.  This is exactly what the ancient magister wants.  Grey Wardens only can kill archdemons.  If his greatest adversary dies unsuccessfully in the Deep Roads, no one can defeat him.  I have already sent a missive to Orzammar alerting the king that if any Grey Wardens travelling to the Deep Roads to contact the Inquisition to avoid unneeded loss of life.  I offered if the informant knew of any Grey Warden resisters that they were welcome at Skyhold, so they may assist the Inquisition and avoid capture.  I offer the same to any Grey Warden that you and the queen may know during this trying time for your order._

_I trust this senior warden, but withhold his name because his brothers hunt him like a rabid dog simply because he questioned leadership.  If there were more people like him in Thedas, the mage rebellion would have been unnecessary, and all abuses and demands would have resolved through reforms decades ago.  If there were more like him, the Chantry would have not floundered so terribly.  If there were people like him, the Templar Order would not be red spiked creatures currently serving an ancient darkspawn magister._

_That leads to my last order of business.  Commander Rutherford and I are investigating the rise of red lyrium within Ferelden.  I have defeated multiple templar squads in both in Crestwood and the Hinterlands while they have mined the crazy substance for their expansive army.  Do_ not _have your soldiers near the rocks.  Knight-Commander Meredith Stennard is a prime example of what this horrible lyrium can do to people.  If your nobility or troops find it, alert the Inquisition.  We are training our soldiers on proper ways to dismantle and remove the matter.  Alliance mages and supporting dwarves assist in the effort, showing great promise to eliminate the matter from your lands.  I wish to offer a partnership that allows your troops to stay safe and work to remove this blighted rock from harming the Fereldan people.  Our army grows every day and the commander prepares them well, but we cannot be everywhere.  We do not want people believing we are an invading force, especially given Ferelden’s history.  Collaboration is the most optimal solution to avoid confusion and conflict.  I will speak in greater detail specifics with your ambassador, Enchanter Connor Guerrin, when I return to Skyhold._

_Ali, I pray you are well.  The senior warden explained the Calling is like a wolf circling a campsite, waiting to strike.  I hope it does not bring you harm.  My thoughts include your queen and love, wishing she is well, wherever she may be.  If possible, warn her that this is not a true call to travel to the Deep Roads.  Her death will destroy you, and you already worry constantly about her safety and welfare._

_I apologize for my rude and childish reaction on Redcliffe Castle’s balcony.  Since the Conclave, Anders plagues my thoughts.  Being compared with him sickened me when the Chantry believed I caused the explosion.  It was wrong to yell at you, demanding an explanation about a matter you knew little about.  What you and Astrid experienced ten years ago seems unheard of until I witnessed the perfidy in Crestwood.  Thank the Maker you had one another during such a trying time.  My advisors keep me level during the difficult moments._

_I hope we may see one another again, my shining knight.  I enjoyed our short time together reminiscing.  We must do it again, hopefully during a time of peace.  I remain vigilant in our cause to stop Corypheus and restore order to Thedas.  Until such a time, I send with this letter with a unique shield I found during my travels in Crestwood.  As soon as I researched its origins, I thought of you eating an entire cheese wheel during our hiking trip all those years ago.  You ached for days afterwards, but you did not care.  I hope it brings you some humor and happiness.  I cannot wait to tell Cullen and Leliana since they know your cheese addiction very well._

_With the Maker's blessings,_

_Inquisitor Evelyn ‘Evie’ Trevelyan_

           

Evie glanced to the cot to her right, shaking her head at the magical “Wedge of Destiny” she was sending to the king.  A part of her wanted to bring it back to Skyhold for Leliana and Cullen to see, but Charter was sending a special carrier to the capital in the morning.  It made sense to send it then.

The Inquisitor’s bright green eyes glanced back out the window.  The sun was setting now over the nearby village recovering from the undead attacks.  Her companions assisted the starving people, re-securing their homes, and healing the wounded.  Although she questioned her Inner Circle, many of them had generous hearts, specifically Solas who asked little in return.  Out of any member, she felt she could trust him the most to support her in their mission.

Evie winced, glancing over the other finished letters to her advisors.  Josephine’s recent letter stated there was a hitch in Orlesian civil war peace talks.  The masquerade the grand duchess wished to hold seemed unlikely during current hostilities.  If the Inquisition wished to stop Celene’s death, they needed to fall into the Imperial Court’s good graces.  It looked like Evie would be returning to the Orlesian capital after a few days in Skyhold.  Leliana’s missive left earlier, requesting the spymaster to find and arrest the mayor of Crestwood.  The rogue’s latest news was gratitude now that her network had an outpost allow the major travelling highway connecting the two capitals.

The letter that troubled Evie was the most was to Cullen.  Every time she started to write about business, it sounded informal and like a personal letter.  Balls of crumpled vellum covered the floor behind her as she struggled with just a few orders.  Maybe it should be a personal letter.  Leliana read almost all correspondence unless it was labeled personal.  Yet, she did not want to give the air that it  _was_  a personal letter. 

The advisors already teased Evie at the theatre about her close contact with the commander.  Fear still loomed inside her chest that such information would be used against her.  Someone might harm Cullen and control the Inquisition through threatening her.  It happened before in the Circle.  Evie’s friend Almi suffered greatly because she was Evie’s friend.  If anyone wanted to know why a noble mage knew how to cuss and acted like a commoner, it was because of Almi.  The city elf mage accepted her silly, non-conforming attitude and introduced her to the real world, as much as allowed in the Circle.  Her familial templars beat her when she befriended Evie.  Thank goodness Rian kept the other templars straight.

Rian could not protect Evie or her close comrades now.

If Evie’s family discovered about her growing feelings for the commander…

Evie rubbed her eyes, trying to push the fear away.  Could she spend her whole life alone because she feared being betrayed or her friends threatened?  Cullen and she were only friends.  He most likely held no feelings for her, especially if he saw her deformed body.  She has befriended many in the Inner Circle, but she did not fret over something happening to them.  Furthermore, the commander survived Kirkwall and probably other terrible places from how he acts and suffers.  The man would probably know if someone was trying to kill him and stab him with a throwing knife from a distance.  He could take care of himself.  Yet, he was so battered...

Evie shook her head, pulling a new sheet of parchment in front of her and started to write, labeling the outside “personal” to avoid Leliana’s eyes.  Her written speech relaxed, while still handling Inquisition matters.

_Cullen,_

_This place sucks.  The weather has been shitty.  A mayor drowned his own people because he wanted to avoid getting the Blight.  The Grey Warden all believe they are dying.  I believe I have the worst luck possible, discovering such horrific plots and actions by people too scared or too stupid to know better._

_Furthermore, the red templars wander the outskirts like a plague.  They killed one of Leliana’s spies, Butcher.  You know him as Scout Pellane, promoted following his success in Redcliffe.  He carried important information now stained in his blood like a slaughtered calf following a wolf attack.  They used his corpse as bait and ambushed us.  Thank the Maker Iron Bull was with us.  They smited me twice.  Thankfully, they did not silence me or I would’ve been a goner.  You promised to train me.  That begins as soon as I arrive back in Skyhold, even if you are growling and barking the whole time.  (I can’t help myself…)_

_You’re probably curious about my interaction with the cello duo.  They still live…for now.  We limited one another’s presence as much as possible.  I made sure to show everyone in camp my healing neck when Fenris was around.  I never knew Harding could make such a disgusted face, readying her bow to snipe him across the base camp.  The elf never blinked when Blackwall sharpened his sword in front of him, but he almost exploded when Dorian drank his personal Tevinter wine.  Fenris looks like a lighthouse beacon when he glows.  No wonder Hawke knows where he is all the time.  She has a constant light sources everywhere she goes!_

_There was nearly a fiasco when our Tevinter mage and the former slave met one another the first night we arrived.  Apparently, Dorian knew Fenris’ former owner, meeting the lyrium-tattooed elf once at a dinner party.  Hawke dragged the mad dog away before he struck the mage down.  I shared my liquor with the Tevinter, pleased that for once Hawke had to be responsible._

_As for the witch, she said very little until we reached Stroud.  The Grey Warden drew his sword at me and she believed she was stopping him from attacking.  I’ve learned enough from Cassandra on dodging swords that I knew I was fine.  If the electric mage wants to believe I am defenseless, meek Circle mage, that’s fine.  If she really wants to duel sometime out in the middle of nowhere, sure.  Bring the roasted corn, cheese, and wine because it will be a spectacular._

_Speaking of cheese, I will have to tell you about a cheese wheel shield I found here.  As soon as I read the journal accompanying it, I burst out laughing.  Everyone thought I lost my mind.  Of course, it’s on its way to Denerim for Alistair.  I already told Leliana about it.  I can see the king prancing around the palace with it strapped to his back proudly._

_Furthermore, I told that templar recruit story to everyone.  Varric has a betting pool already established on which one of you actually waltzed into the mess hall almost naked.  Most people declared Alistair, although Dorian and I both double-down it was you.  I will find out somehow._

_Soooo…you might be upset with me.  You may get this letter before I return…from the Hinterlands.  Cassandra, Bull, Sera, and I_ might _have killed a dragon here in Crestwood.  Before you get upset, finish reading.  The dragon killed many livestock in the area and threatened the settlement.  While closing a fade rift, the beast flew down and landed, pinning us against a rock face and some old ruins._

_We’re all alive right now, just remember that.  Cassandra has killed many dragons in the past.  The Void, she saved the Divine from a thunder of dragons!  It truly showed during the fight.  Iron Bull might have offered everyone in camp a night cap because the battle excited him so much.  Sera shook the whole time, but enjoyed pissing on its corpse afterwards.  We were so successful we decided…_

 

* * *

 

            “ ‘ _…we decided to leave for the Hinterlands tomorrow on our way back to Skyhold and kill the Frostback fire dragon we avoided there a few months ago._ ’ ”  Cullen’s husky voice wavered reading the last paragraph aloud to make sure he understood what Evie did.  “ ‘ _I want to have a huge party for our victory and maybe do something amazing with the skulls and bones.  I always heard about a famous smithing duo named Wade and Herren who crafted fine armor for the Hero of Ferelden.  Can you see if they are available?_ ’ ”

Cullen lowered the letter from his vision, unamused by the Inquisitor’s relaxed speech describing a bloody dragon fight!?  The commander pinched his nose, fighting the urge to bark orders at recruits who did not deserve his wrath.  Maker, he worried constantly about her already.  Now she was fighting dragons with little regard for her own safety.

Almost all of Skyhold stood in the lower courtyard staring at the massive dragon skull pulled on an oversized cart by six horses.  Everyone awed in admiration the line of carts carrying scales, leather, and dragon meat for the Inquisition’s use.  Apparently this was only half of the kill.  Most meat remained in Crestwood for the region’s inhabitants.  The Inquisitor was going to do the same in the Hinterlands.

“What was that woman thinking!?” Cullen hollered, shoving the letter back into his pocket.  The two other advisors appeared in his peripheral vision.  He wanted to avoid their curiosity regarding a  _much_ unexpected letter from Evie.

The Inquisitor always wrote missives to the advisors in the field.  The woman never stopped communication, detailing orders and suggestions based on their intelligence and her observations.  Cullen reflected on his first conversation with the mage.  She always observed and reacted to requests and shortcomings she encountered.  She actually did most of the leg work herself, not acting like she was above others.  It was one of those admirable qualities he appreciated about Evie.

Yet, when the runner hand delivered the Inquisitor’s letter with its wax seal still in place, he did not know what it meant.  All communication went through Leliana no matter the intended advisor.  However, once he read the letter’s front, he almost gasped.  It was labelled private in  _her_  handwriting.  Suddenly, Cullen felt like a young adolescent getting his first secret admirer letter during templar training.  Ferelden’s templar recruit academy sat on the edge of Denerim.  Young women would line the Chantry fence and watch all the recruits practice their swordsmanship in awe.  Some recruits bragged about the number of admirers they gained.  The first time Cullen received such a note, he purged in the privy.  At that time, women were scary and drew him away from his training to become the best templar ever.

Maya Amell changed that.

Cullen winced, glancing around him to see if the tranquil woman was in the courtyard.  Thank the Maker she was not or he may vomit publicly.  He wanted to avoid explaining his sudden sickness while everyone gathered around the Inquisitor’s latest victory.

However, Evie’s letter did not make him sick like an adolescent.  It made him freak in anticipation.  Her speech was relaxed and very much her  _true_  personality.  Cullen was still in his office when he read the last paragraph the first time, hearing the yelling and whistles in the distance.  His attention was on her funny phrases than the excitement outside.  Once reading the word ‘dragon,’ he put one and one together.  The commander raced outside and saw the skull and reread the last paragraph.  His very annoyed anger overwhelmed the giddy happiness.

“Charter told me before reading the Inquisitor’s report.”  Leliana cooed, crossing her arms over her chainmail armor.  “Evie was fine when she left Caer Bronach, Commander.  You can stop whining at the front gate…”

Cullen’s amber eyes turned to silts, noting the reference the spymaster was insinuating.  “I think I’m been punished enough, thank you.   _Both_  of you can stop with the mabari remarks.  It’s getting old.”

Josephine arrived at his other side, giggling behind her hand.  “Not until the Inquisitor says otherwise.  You heard her at the meeting.  We are only following her edict.”

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck, deeply sighing.  In Evie’s absence, the teasing intensified.  Apparently, Leliana viewed the two of them watching the sunrise drinking tea the morning after Fenris nearly choked her.  Leliana told Josephine.  Ever since then, they bugged him about following Evie around like a mabari puppy.  He always wished his own affairs to remain private.  His siblings mocked him as a child for his ambitious goals.  The recruits teased him when they found him in privy after his first secret admire letter, especially a young recruit Alistair.  Now, his fellow advisors tormented him about his hair and mabari behavior.  Maker, what was the next decade of his life going to entail?

“Before you relieve yourself all over the stones, she is well after the Hinterlands.”  Leliana patted his pauldron while both women snickered to themselves.  “That dragon was tough, but they all survived.  Josie, we must plan for a celebration.  Our Inquisitor has added dragon hunting to her activities.”

“To the Void, she has!”  Cullen snapped, throwing both women looks.  “She is the only person who can close rifts, and she leads one the fastest-growing armies in Thedas.  She has enough to do than hunt dragons too!”

“Down, boy!”  Josephine laughed as both women broke out in laughter.  Cullen’s cheek flashed pink as the embarrassment became too much.  “You can tell Evelyn that yourself when she arrives in the next few days.  Maybe over tea at sunset?”

Cullen’s mouth gapped, turning away and grumbling under his breath.  “I will be in my tower…Maker’s breath…”

Both women’s laughter only got louder the farther he walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cullen is such a good puppy! Yes he is! Good boy!


	14. Heavy Crown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HIT 1000 HITS FOR "ANDRASTE'S FIRE, INQUISITOR'S LIGHT"!!!! I LOVE YOU ALL!!!
> 
> Hey Everyone, still feel like I'm dying from my health problems. The best way to compare it is seeing Cullen with his migraines and aches. Real life is also messing up my time to write too. Too many issues going on. For that, I will post this week, and probably take a week off next week. I'm sorry. :(
> 
> If you all didn't see the bonus content on Friday, check out my supplemental chapter called "Denial: Oblivious" for the series "The Stages of Grief and Love." It is a series that provides extra insight into Alistair and Astrid's love during the Blight. Seeing Cullen and Evie all loving and such makes the separation worse. Take a look!
> 
> Chapter Song: "You're a God" by Vertical Horizon
> 
> I made yet another Spotify list of main "theme songs" for "The Fire In Your Eyes." I have found some VERY relevant songs on there lately that display this series sooo well. (Search "Fire In Your Eyes Themes" and you should find it.)

The grand hall probably never held so many people in its expansive existence.  Commoners rubbed shoulders with nobles.  Templars stood in anticipation by alliance mages.  Fereldans conversed with Orlesians.  Dorian expected dogs and cats to rain from the ceiling.  It was opposite day, and everyone’s eyes focused on the mage Inquisitor’s throne decorated in Andraste’s fire, the most unexpected pairing of all.

The Tevinter mage wondered sometimes if he was still in the Imperium.  A mage was leading the faithful.  A woman held almost all the power on southern Thedas because the divine was dead and could control the Veil.  She fought an ancient magister who tainted the Black City and plagued the world with darkspawn.  Dorian believed himself a faithful Andrastian, but his old beliefs were constantly being ripped apart since joining the Inquisition.

Luckily, the Maker chose a witty and charismatic messenger.  He always liked Evie.  In their first exchange, they traded quips and flirting like they knew each other for decades.  Yet, in that terrible future, he witness the true woman as she struggled with the failures and consequences if she died.  She was actually broken and bruised by her past and her fears.  She yearned for change, but it weighted on her delicate soul.  Since then, Dorian actively assisted her in any way.  They were kindred spirits, the sensible minority in their wars against stupidity and pride.  If he preferred women, the Tevinter mage would not mind banging her until the end of time, fighting over magical theory between flings.  Such a shame she was not a man. 

No one in the Inquisition knew about Dorian’s personal preferences, sans that damn Qunari beast that kept insinuating things while the Inner Circle traveled.  The mage thought his very open hatred for his empire’s old adversary was enough.  Even in that packed grand hall, the horned ass stared at him from across the way.  Evie might have figured out his sexuality in their drunk conversations during late nights in her tower.  They always remarked about interesting and desirable people they met on their travels.  The Inquisitor’s sexual encounters were very limited usually between exploring budding young women in the Circles, thus is why Dorian felt he pegged Evie and Cullen would share a bed _very_ soon.  A Chantry boy and an inexperience Circle mage sounded like a pair in one of Varric’s horrible romance novels.

Dorian glanced to his left, smirking about his train of thought.  Early signals in their first meetings told the mage Cullen preferred women’s company.  A shame really since he would lick that man’s flagpole happily.  It did not stop the Tevinter from making passes at the Inquisition’s commander during chess games to win for once.  Cullen would throw him a look with his pink cheeks, moving a piece and placing him in check every time.  Damn, even that man’s smugness was a turn on.

They deserved each other, Dorian sighed.  Evie never told him openly about her past life, but she wore it on her face and body.  While treating her wounds after Haven, he saw the torture and pain that was physically inflicted on her person.  The emotional and psychological scars were more elusive unless you watched her behavior and listened to the small lilts in her pitch she could not hide. 

Evie’s biggest telling sign were her big bright green eyes.  When the Inquisitor actually slept in camp, typically in a tree, Dorian was the one who would console her when the nightmares emerged.  The commander could not be in the field so the Tevinter gladly took the mantle and kept her safe from the predators within the Inner Circle.  Evie caught on quickly, nudging him when she would wander off to rest.  There was no words spoken, but her eyes sang her gratitude.  Once Evie informed him she could hear his connection to the Fade, it relieved Dorian to know she knew where he was if she needed him.  Dorian might always complain everyone else was a mother hen like Alexius acted with Felix, but now he was Evie’s hen.  He would gladly raise the dead to avenge her if something happened.

Maybe that is why Cullen and Dorian became such quick friends.  An ex-templar and a Tevinter mage was the biggest oxymoron in the great hall that day.  According to southern Thedas racism, they should have torn each other to shreds, but no, they had not.  Actually, when Dorian was in Skyhold, he always found himself bugging the Fereldan beast, drinking his whiskey and playing chess at random times both day and night.  Dorian was a night owl, while the commander never slept.  If decency allowed it, they would probably all hang out in Evie’s tower because the woman avoided sleep like the Blight.  Three broken people who could share each other’s pains over chess and fine booze.  Dorian never admitted his problems, but he enjoyed spending time with other battered souls.

Dorian’s swirling eyes studied the barbarian beside him.  The mage had directly spoken to Cullen yet and knew Evie was in love with him.  She does not know it yet herself, and the commander is too daft to realize her feelings, although he attempted to hide his emotions behind his templar scowl.  When Evie firestormed and stabbed his red lyrium monster in the future, her face screamed anguish and sorrow.  Once they returned to the present and heard Cullen’s voice, she almost killed everyone in panic and fear of seeing his red eyes staring back at her.

A month later, Dorian discovered Evie admitted to the commander what she committed in the future.  Cullen let it slip.  Although the commander never asked what happened, Dorian stated it was a trying time for the Herald.  So much weight hung on her shoulders.  The Anchor could kill her from the inside.  Cullen agreed.  He even argued with the advisors to not make her Inquisitor.  He relented in the end and received a firm tongue lashing from the Tevinter after the announcement ceremony.  All the former templar could say in defense was, “I will protect her, Dorian.  I swear it.”

“Then do it.”  Dorian hissed under his breath, watching the Inquisitor’s tower door open.  Cullen threw him a strange stare, surprised by the brash outburst.  Dorian just crossed his arms in disgust over his formal robes.

The woman knew how to dress.  Evie emerged from the tower in a dark golden dress with a tight skirt in the front and a longer train behind her.  The dress top were folded into V’s across her chest connecting at the edge of her shoulders to tight sleeves.  The gown mimicked the Chantry’s colors as well as her magical fire.  The folds refracted between red and gold, entrancing the audience with each step towards the throne.

However, all eyes focused on the ornate sword laying across her palms.  The hilt were designed like a dragon with gold and brass over the handle.  The grip was wrapped in black leather, highlighting the Inquisition’s colors.  Once the hilt and guard connected to the blade, sunburst rays fanned in all directions tying the magical flames together.  The blade was a unique white silver color as her magic illuminated the sharp edges.

“That is not the sword from the announcement ceremony.”  Dorian commented as Evie reached her throne in front of multi-story-tall stain glass windows.  Each depicted a different message:   Andraste in the middle, Haven to the middle left and Skyhold in the right middle window.  On the far ends were flames and green sparks of rifts.  The top mosaic displayed the Inquisition’s heraldry.  It told Evie’s divinity to anyone who walked into the grand fortress.  It accented her true beauty and gift as she stood in front of her Andrastian flaming throne.

To Dorian, it told a great lie.

“She broke the original sword.”  Cullen remarked in a low husky voice.  He kept his amber eyes focused on the flaming goddess before them on the dais.  “I told her it was an old sword we found in Skyhold when actually Josephine had it specially made for her.  Once I found out, I worked quickly.  Evie wanted something made from the dragon bones by those two nitwit artisans in Denerim.  I commissioned the sword.  The blade is the bone from the Hinterland’s fire dragon so that’s why it can burn without issue.”

Dorian chuckled.  “What did the ambassador say?”

“She doesn’t know the other is destroyed.  I told the advisors it was stolen soon after the ceremony.”  Cullen muttered in fright as both men stared at the puzzled ambassador on the stairs to Evie’s right.  “I would prefer its true fate remained a mystery, please.”

“So you crafted a magical sword for our dear Inquisitor.”  Dorian smirked evilly.  “Such a romantic, you brute.”  Cullen’s cheeks flashed red, clearing his throat.

Ser Hugh and Enchanter Ellendra stood on either side of the Inquisitor’s throne.  Both stomped their staff and sword again the red carpet.  They sang in unison:

“My Creator, judge me whole:

Fine me well within Your grace.

Touch me with first that I be cleaned.

Tell me I have sung to Your approval.”[1]

By the end of the verse, the whole room joined in the Chant of Transfigurations.  Cullen leaned towards Dorian again.  “This was all Evie’s idea.  If she is to judge people for their wrongs, she wanted it to be formal and under the Maker’s watchful eye.  Ser Hugh and Enchanter Ellendra are her bailiffs to show no preference between non-mages and mages.  She truly wants unity in the Inquisition.”

“Yet, the crown on her head is weighting _her_ down.”  Dorian spat, watching his beloved friend strike the flaming sword into a specialized vertical stand in front of her throne.  She sat down with grace, her head high and shoulders back.

Dorian was being hypothetical of course.  Evie did not wear a crown, although her auburn hair was braided and weaved around the top of her head like one.  White feathers and gold jewels adorned the hairstyle, demonstrating a divine presence that was false, just like her tame behavior.  The only bits of Evie the Tevinter could observed was an amber pendent hanging from a long gold chain and amber studs in each ear.

Once Evie returned from Val Royeaux, she requested him to come to her tower.  She was unwell, complaining about blaring cellos.  However, she could not wait to show him her new jewelry set.  One look at the amber pieces and he knew what she had done.  Dorian warned her about bring something back from the horrific future.  It could create more tears in time, yet she refused to dispose the focus crystal.  In some cracks, Dorian could still see the creature’s blood.  It just confirmed she was in love with Cullen.  Now, she wore that jewelry everywhere, always saying she will always have a focus stone in emergencies.  An idiot might believe it, but she craved that man like air.

From the look on the commander’s face right then, so did Cullen.  Slight smiles trickled from his lips every so often, staring at her upon that throne.  Between those smiles were waves of pain and sorrow.  Just like Dorian, Cullen knew Evie’s position will kill her.  If allowed, the human mabari would steal her from that moronic seat and take her far away from all troubles.

Fasta vass!  The man should just do it before the _true_ Evie disappeared!

Evie waved her hand.  “Bring forth the first accused.”  Her voice boomed throughout the grand hall.  Dorian smirked.  She must be using a sound amplifying spells so everyone could hear.  Elemental magic was her forte, but she showed great skill in Force magic.  Yet, do not expect her to freeze anything or heal you.  She might put your head in your ass, but you _may be_ okay with minor sprains and scratches.

All eyes shifted to the back tall doors.  The audience separated to either side of the hall, allowing the two prison guards to guide a large horned man with mud paint covering his bare chest.  Dorian blinked a few times, regretting calling Cullen a barbaric brute.  _This_ animal was a true example of southern Thedas barbarism.  Following behind the tall creature was a tiny dwarf for comparison.  Varric held his book with a quill and inkwell.  Once the guards positioned the prisoner in the proper position, Varric sat down at a specialized writing table across from Josephine.

“Inquisitor,” Josephine cleared her throat, avoiding the Avvar’s large eyes.  “This was a surprise.  After your adventure into Fallow Mire, we discovered this man attacking.  The fortress.  With a…goat.  I announce to you Chief Movran the Under.  He feels slighted by the killing of his Avvar tribesmen.  This tribe captured a squadron of Inquisition scouts and repeatedly attacked you and your party.  What do you say, Your Worship?”

Evie touched fingertips together across her body, still resting her elbows on her throne’s arms.  “You answered the death of your clan…with a goat?  In most situations, I would find this humorous.  However, your tribesman endangered our scouts, who were investigating fade rifts in the Veil, or as your once comrade Skywatcher stated, ‘tears in your Lady’s skin.’  We meant no disrespect to you or your kinsmen, yet they attacked without motive.”

The large Avvar man stepped forward.  “So a courtroom?  Unnecessary!  You killed my idiot son.  As is my custom, I smacked your holdings with goat’s blood.  He meant to murder Tevinters, but got feisty with your Inquisition.  A redheaded mother guarantees a brat!”

Evie blinked at the explanation.  Dorian smirked grew, leaning towards Cullen to his left.  “Something to look forward to, eh Commander?”

Cullen threw him a surprised look, attempting to hide his embarrassment.  Somehow, probably through the Fade, Evie recognized the commander’s panic.  She notably glanced at the two men in the crowd, eying each closely.  “I would watch your words, Chief Morvan, for I may qualify as a redhead to some people.  What say you about the Avvar attacking both Fereldan and Inquisition troops in the Frostback Mountains?”

The chief shrugged.  “Other clans always disrupt the ‘kingdoms.’  Just as my stupid son wished to challenge you, the other tribes are probably doing the same, as is our history.  My clan yields.  My remaining boys have brains still in their skulls.  Do as you’ve earned!”

Evie sighed, closing her eyes to think.  A few moments of silence followed as the whole attendance held their breath for her verdict.  The Inquisitor’s bright green eyes flashed open suddenly.  She rose from her seat.  “Chief Morvan, it seems our conflict was accidentally, but it cannot be repeated.  Your son wished to fight Tevinters, well I shall give your clan the chance.  I banish you and your clan—with as many weapons as you can carry—to the border of Tevinter.  There, fight those called Venatori who threaten not only the Inquisition, but your people to the south.  They are easy to recognize from their brothers as they feed on red lyrium and follow a mage named Calpernia.  Revenge your son and your people against those who threaten all of us.  I wish you luck…and much enjoyment against these fanatical adversaries.”

The people in the grand hall called and clapped in acceptance as Ser Hugh took off the prisoner’s shackles.  Morvan stared at the Inquisitor with a devilish smile.  “My idiot boy got us something after all!”  The chief was led away.

The short calls of happiness dissipated as Evie sat down on her throne and resumed court.  Cullen nodded to Dorian one last time.  The commander moved through the crowd to join the main area for the next defendant.

Dorian mentally prepared himself for the worst.  Throughout the last month, Evie questioned the Tevinter mage about his former patron and his son.  She wished to understand what drove this man to align with an ancient magister.  She reread the multiple journals and letters they found in the future for explanations.  The fire mage spent many evenings discussing the matters with Felix.  She wanted to gain the whole picture before judging Alexius Gereon.

Damn Felix, Dorian spat in his mind.  The young man left Skyhold a few days ago during the night on Dorian’s Imperial horse.  Felix stated to his friend that he felt he needed to warn their home of the impending dangers Corypheus held over the world.  Felix ignored his own health, believing in the Inquisition to stop the ancient magister before he ascended into the heavens and became a god.  Dorian ran from the Imperium, knowing it was a lost cause, especially after what his own father committed.  Felix disagreed, urging Dorian to finally stand against the naysayers and _do_ something about the corruption.  Once the necromancer refused, Felix escaped Skyhold for Tevinter, determined to have the Magistrium see reason.

The Inquisitor convinced Felix change could occur.  Evie stated if templars and mages could work together to build a better southern Thedas, Felix and many others in the Imperium could do the same.  Evie knew Felix was dying.  There was no cure for the Blight, but yet he still wanted his life to have meaning.  Maybe it was their common relation of seeing death that united Felix and Evie.  The woman _was_ dead when they found her in the snow.  It was the Maker’s will that she even came back.  Yet, she took the Inquisitor mantle, knowing it would be the end of her again one way or another. 

Once Dorian confronted his friend about Felix leaving, Evie told Felix what she planned for his father.  She stated it was Dorian who convinced her of Alexius’ fate.  Nothing said after this moment should matter, but it still brought great anxiety inside him.  He felt for the man who cared for him like a father _should_ care for his son.  Yet, Alexius traded all the world of a chance to travel back in time to save his son and wife from a gruesome death.  Apparently, Evie could relate. 

“Bring forth the next accused.”  The Inquisitor called throughout the grand hall. 

By now Cullen stood at her side.  His face screamed templar with one hand on his broadsword hilt and the other in his coat pocket.  He stood a few feet away from the Inquisitor, opposite Josephine.

Dorian felt the disconnection from the Fade first.  His head was dizzy and confused as a weak man in chains walked forward with two templars holding each arm.  As Dorian’s vision stabilized, he noticed mana-draining shackles on Alexius’ wrists and ankles as he was pushed up the grand hall aisle.

Surrounding people booed and hissed at the defeated man.  Alexius looked like he was wishing death, thankful he could join his wife and, soon, his son.  Felix visited him before leaving Skyhold, Evie said.  The father has no idea what awaited him.  Felix stated he forgave his father, hoping one day he could forgive himself for Felix and his mother’s deaths.  Dorian should have told off his patron a year ago when he had a chance.  Alexius walked with guilt and anguish since the darkspawn attack.  All people wish they could change the past in one form or another.  However, it is more difficult to accept that such actions were the Maker’s will and move forward.

Josephine cleared her throat, causing the audience’s harsh tones to subside.  “Your Worship, you recall Alexius Gereon of Tevinter.  Ferelden has given him to us as an acknowledgement of the Inquisition’s aid.  The former charges are apostasy, attempted enslavement, and attempted assassination—on your own life, no less.  Tevinter has disowned and stripped him of his rank.  You may judge the former magister as you see fit.”

Evie arched her back, leaning forward in her throne.  “What say you, Alexius, in your defense?”

Alexius stumbled forward, weak and defeated by his magical constraints.  “I couldn’t save my son.  Do you think this matters?  You’ve won nothing.  The people you saved, the acclaim you’re gathered—you’ll lose it all in the storm to come.  Render you judgement, _Inquisitor_.”

Dorian looked away, sighing.  He prayed that his patron would reflect on his previous choices and see the errors in his ways.  Yet, Alexius believed everything was hopeless.  _He_ was hopeless, especially against Corypheus.  The audience whispered to one another, scared and frightened by the former magister’s warning.

Evie never wavered, standing up from her throne and walking towards the fallen magister.  “Alexius, I see before me a crushed human being.  I have been told about a man like this once before.  He was my father…”  Whispers intensified in the crowd, wondering what Evie meant.  “You see, my father’s first wife died the most gruesome way in the Deep Roads.  I discovered your wife died in a darkspawn raid, but her body was whole, only cut down by the creatures.  Much worse could have come to her for my father’s wife was carried down the depths and made a broodmother.  She was forced to give birth to those disgusting blighted monsters for months until my father and members of my house allied with the Grey Wardens and ended her life.”

Alexius’ eyes were huge, glancing in all directions.  Evie walked towards the former magister in small steps.  “He did not resort to apostasy.  He did not join an ancient magister to try and reverse everything.  He stood up, became the man he is still today.  He cared for his first daughter and his wife and children that followed.” 

Evie paused, gripping her stomach.  “It is true, I am not a parent.  I do not understand the anguish of seeing your child suffer.  Yet, your son is an adult and accepts the Maker’s will.  You tried to reverse that.  You willingly joined Corypheus and enslaved hundreds of mages using a magic that ripped holes in time to undo something your son did not want.  That is the actions of a selfish man.  I saw the result of your greediness.  I saw everyone here dead, their heads decapitated and displayed like trophies on the battlements.  I saw red creatures roam the world much like they destroyed Haven. 

The Inquisitor’s voice settled from the scolding.  “I thank you though.  You gave me power.  You gave me the will to fight Coyrpheus with all my heart and soul.  You awaken a flame inside me that speaks for the heavens to stand against him.  No, all of us will stand against that deformed monster and save this world.  You claim we do not know the storm to come.  Alexius, you _showed_ us what to expect.  I thank you for such hindsight…”

Evie glided towards the commander who pulled a glowing object from his pocket.  Dorian stretched his willpower into the Fade, but his mana decreased quickly anyway.  Whatever this object was, it was extremely powerful and terrifying to mages.

The Inquisitor turned towards her prisoner, showing the magister what she held.  “You know what this is, Alexius?”  The mage said nothing.  His face filled with panic and fear.  “This is the Sunburst Brand.  This is used on the most dangerous mages.  It is believed that some mages cannot be trusted with their magic so their connection to the Fade is cut off, leaving them Tranquil.  You know the Tranquil, right?  The same tranquil you and the Venatori used as _objects_ to find ancient shards, a mass genocide for power and greed.”  Evie leaned forward, demonstrating the branding action towards Alexius.  The magister closed his eyes, shaking in fear.  His eyes flashed open as the brand fell from her hands and hit the dais between the frighten man.  “It will be used no more.”  Her voice was stern, echoing off the stone walls.  “You are a prime example to why the brand was created.  Yet, you technically did nothing wrong.  You did not create that future for it has not happened.  We shifted away from that outcome to decide our own fates.  I will not decide your fate, Alexius.  Only you and Maker can do so.”

Evie flicked her hand towards the atrium.  “Council of Magi, come forth!”

Doors behind Dorian creaked opened as eight robed mages marched forward and up the aisle.  They saluted the Inquisitor, then turned their attention to the magister frightened and confused by events.  His teary eyes flashed back at the leader in front of the hall.

“Council, I present to you Alexius Gereon, a broken and destitute mage who has lost his homeland, his family, and his life.  He will serve you as he expected you to serve him.  Any knowledge, favor, or coin he earns will serve the southern mages’ future.  Templars will always be at his side so he may feel what you experienced your entire Circle lives.  Alexius Gereon, I condemn you to a life of serve to the southern mages, not as a slave, but as a forever apprentice.  You will spend the rest of your life learning and reflecting on your mistakes and choices.  Tranquility can be reversed now and could make you more spiteful than before.  This punishment allows you to step away and give your life new meaning, much like my father did after his merciful act for his first wife.  May the Maker shine His Light on you so you may forgive yourself as we forgive you.”

Alexius burst into tears, knowing he will not be joining his wife and son in death.  Dorian ached with Alexius, but agreed in his friend’s judgement.  As the sole survivor of the Conclave, she carried a great deal of guilt on her shoulders.  Living can be more punitive than dying.  Alexius’ life could be spent in his own misery or made anew with new understanding of what he could be.  His life remained under a watchful eyes of all who surrounded him.  There was no escaping his mistakes.  He would be held accountable until his last breath.

The Council of Magi, Alexius, and his templar guards escorted the former magister from the grand hall.  Evie walked forward, grasped the flaming sword.  She pulled it upwards, holding it for all the people to see.

Ser Hugh and Enchanter Ellendra stepped forward.  All Inquisition troops saluted, including Varric, Cullen, and Josephine.  They all began to sing:

“The Light shall lead her safely,

Through the paths of this world, and into the next.

For she who trusts in the Maker, fire is her water.

As the mother sees light and goes towards flame,

She should see fire and go towards Light,

The Veil holds no uncertainty for her,

And she will know no fear of death, for the Maker

Shall be her beacon and her shield, her foundation, and her sword.”[2]

The Inquisitor carried her flaming sword across the throne area to her tower.  Everyone remained in place until she was beyond their sight.  Her tower door slammed close, echoing off the stone walls like a call for silence.  No one moved or spoke.

Then like a spell, everyone broke away.  The judgement was complete.  Dorian sighed in relief.  The whole show was finally over.  He could move forward.   The Tevinter noticed Cullen approach him, smirking.  His hand was still on broadsword.  The commander patted the mage on the shoulder, recognizing the whole experience wore him out like a difficult battle.

“Come on.”  The Fereldan brute waved towards the gardens.  “I believe I owe you a chess rematch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] From the Chant of Transfigurations, 12:4.
> 
> [2] From the Chant of Transfiguration, 10:1
> 
> Inspiration for Evie's holy gown:
> 
> <https://thejeeperswife.tumblr.com/post/170434244709/inspiration-of-evies-gown-in-part-2-chapter-14>


	15. Checkmate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song: "Stupid" by Sarah McLachlan
> 
> Story utilizes existing events and conversations from Dragon Age: Inquisition, all owned by Bioware and EA.
> 
> The Maker does not want me to write! I actually gained some time to write this week, and I developed a horrible cold. I really wanted to avoid take a week off posting, but I have no choice now. Hopefully, in the meantime, I feel better fast and crank out like ten chapters. (I've done it before when the world leaves me alone.) If I am successful, I maybe able to post next Friday, but from what real life is throwing at me, unlikely. Please be patient! You all are the best!

Stress and fear lifted from Evie’s shoulders, chest, and mind as she placed her new Inquisition sword on its horizontal stand on top the fireplace mantle.  As she retracted her hands, the flames disappeared, draining her magic from its metal and bone.  Her arms fell to her sides as she stared at her gift, beaming happily at its design, but not what it stood for.  Her bright green eyes flicked to the handwritten note that laid under the mahogany stand.  She placed it there when she discovered her gift, knowing that small straight, block handwriting even if she was blind.

‘ _Like the fire dragon you slayed, a flaming sword to match your might.’_

Evie blushed again.  The man was not a poet, but the small touches the commander allowed to show through his imposing templar guise were genuine and heartwarming.  When she saw the craftsmanship, the Inquisitor knew this was smithed by the famous Wade.  Cullen responded to her request and celebrated her dragon slaying victory with a magnificent sword.  The commander had not yelled at her about her two extra excursions against the untamed beasts, but it would not be long.  He could holler all he wanted.  She would not trade the experience and this gift for the world.

Evie just bemoaned what it signified.

The judgement wore Evie out.  She designed the whole affair to be official and give the right message to her prisoners and the attendees, but she felt so fake.  Leliana and Josephine appreciated the message she vocalized with the Chant of Transfiguration, the formal dress, and the mage and non-mage bailiffs.  Acting like the Herald of Andraste was difficult.  She believed she was prepared by the Maker and His Bride for this cause, but she felt like she was above everyone.  She constantly reaffirmed she was one of the people, but they held her on a pedestal and bowed and curtsy as if she was the Divine.

Evie sighed, remembering Thedas did not have a divine.  They had no one who could pull everyone together to fight against an ancient magister like in the children religious stories.  She had to be both the people’s savior and religious leader.  The Inquisitor must be a warrior on the field as well as noble and graceful symbol in court, like a damn queen.  She would not be a monarch.  The Inquisition will remain the people’s cause.

Being a mage was just icing on the cake.  Even if she did not agree with many alliance mages’ demands, Evie sympathized with their cause.  They just went about it completely wrong.  The Templar Order was also at fault.  However, seeing both groups speaking and watching the judgement together filled Evie with hope.  Their souls were in symphony with her words and actions.  She heard their music through the Fade, unifying as one sound, one force against the chaos.

“Maker’s arse, I hope I can keep this up.”  Evie whined, hitting her forehead against the marble fireplace mantle.

“Are you well, my Lady?”  Fesill called from the connected room where the young elf put away her refracting gold-red gown.  She peeked her head out the door, worried and panicked.

The elf would never relaxed with Evie.  She was constantly frantic and rushing between tasks like the room was on fire.  Evie gave up convincing Fesill not to call her ‘Your Worship’, ‘my Herald’, or ‘my Lady.’  She was going to call her by her façade titles until her last breath, so Evie just let her.  Maybe, but very unlikely, the woman would come around before the next age.

“Yes,” Evie waved with little strength.  “Just a trying morning.”  Evie stood in her half bodice small clothes and a slip covering her legs.  She already shifted her crown braid to a lower style edging around her neck and beside her ears.  The mage could not wait to get the jewels and feathers out of her wavy hair because they pulled at her scalp.   Only the amber earrings and pendant remained of the glittering gems.  “What’s my schedule for the rest of the day?”  Evie’s eyes shifted to the desk, knowing Josephine left her an appointment list, but she just did not want to see her life planned out to the very second.

“You are free until this evening.  You meet with Representative Guerrin for dinner.”  Fesill called from the connected room.  She came walking out with a long white under gown with a matching embroidered blue-grey overcoat that fastened together with a belt.  “Midday tomorrow, you have a final War Council meeting, a review meeting with Lady Montilyet regarding travel to Val Royeaux, then the dragon slaying fete in the tavern at night.”

“That’s it?”  Evie quizzed, surprised that none of those meetings were as terrible as she expected.

“Yes, Lady Montilyet stated you will have a trying time in the Imperial Court and wished for you to relax before entering the capital.”

Evie smirked.  Josephine did not want the mage burning down Val Royeaux.  Her next trip was to discuss the hiccup in peace talks.  Both sides wished the Inquisition to act as a liaison.  The civil war intensified within the last few months, most likely Corypheus’ doing.  Josephine viewed the liaison role as an opportunity to expand the Inquisition’s presence in Orlais, especially since they needed the empress’ support to move troops to the Western Approach.  Stroud, Hawke, and Fenris waited patiently for the Inquisition to search for the Grey Wardens.

Just as Ferelden viewed the Inquisition as an ‘Orlesian military force,’ the empire claimed the organization preferred its former colony to the east.  The ambassador worked tiredly to change the view, but was only successful among some noble families.  Many previous Inquisition supporters were still upset with the loss of family leaders when they were sent to Therinfal Redoubt.  Intelligence stated Corypheus’ activities shifted inside Orlais now that the Inquisition and Ferelden were somewhat allies.  To stop Empress Celene’s assassination, the advisors agreed their efforts must shift and pander to the masked buffoons.

That also meant entering Patricia’s domain.

The Trevelyan daughters were opposites in every way, specifically with political alliances.  Evie loved Ferelden.  She was nearly born in the kingdom.  If the infant had waited another week, she would have been born in Redcliffe Castle during her family’s annual summer visit.  Patricia’s mother was born in the Free Marches, but her family originated from the Orlesian nobility.  It was no surprise her older sister preferred the empire for a spouse, ignoring Bann Trevelyan’s urges to marry into Fereldan politics.  Evie suspected if she never married Rian, she would be betrothed to a Fereldan nobleman.  Maybe that is why the mage was so attracted to the Inquisition’s husky commander.  He was her childhood dream husband.

Evie smacked her forehead again, shoving her wants and desires back into the corners of her mind and heart.  Such thoughts were only permitted at night alone with only her feelings to comfort her.  The slap startled Fesill as she prepared Evie’s dress on the bed.  She yelped in surprised, covering her mouth.

The Inquisitor sighed, waving away the elf’s fright.  “I’m fine.  Just trying to be the perfect leader.”  Her voice was hoarse and drained.

“Maybe some time in the gardens will do you well, my Lady.”  Fesill smiled, lifting the white under gown up to put over Evie’s head.  “Spring is almost here and it is warmer than usual outside today.  The Chantry statues are in place, and the sisters and mages are already planting herbs and flowers.  It will be so beautiful in a few weeks.  Enjoy the time outside in the sun.  Mostly everyone wandered outside the fortress walls after the judgement.  It should be peaceful.”

Evie’s head emerged out of the garment, grinning a little.  “Yes, maybe I will.  Gatsi stated he wants to place some handmade statues of elves and dwarfs among the Andrastian statues to include the other races.  A united front.  That is what I want.”

Fesill tugged on the white dress’ corset strings in the back.  “After this morning’s judgement, your wishes are coming true.”

 

* * *

 

“Gloat all you like.  I have this game.”  Cullen smirked, leaning back in the gazebo chair.  In three more moves, he will have Dorian in checkmate.  Once again, the Tevinter mage forgot about his right flank, ignoring that his king will be exposed with no possible rescue.

Chess was the commander’s forte.  It enabled all his strengths into a safe mental game.  His father taught him and his older sister in hopes Cullen would be assuaged with mental warfare than physical.  It backfired as Mia kept beating Cullen in each match.  In his young fury, he would chase the chickens and pigs around the farm with a wooden fence post and a barrel lid until he cleared his mind and started practicing again.  As the commander got older, his mental and physical urges to protect and serve on and off a battlefield combined.  By he was thirteen, he proved to everyone in Honnleath that he would be an excellent templar.

Cullen winced at the thought.  His village no longer stood after the darkspawn killed many people and tainted the farmland.  He left the Order broken and battered following years of blood magic, demonic torture, and twisted leadership.  What would his child-self think of him now?

“Are you _sassing_ me, Commander?  I didn’t know you had it in you.”  Dorian smirked with a few giggles.

Of all the people Cullen could get along with in Skyhold, Dorian became his dear friend.  There were others who he could speak with, such as Cassandra and his Free Marcher friend, Rylen, but the mage knew him as he was _now_ , not as a templar.  He was not prejudice towards Cullen.  Actually, he asked a great deal of questions about southern templars, explaining that his country’s knights were primarily soldiers.  They enjoyed debating and drinking whiskey together late at night when Dorian was sick of reading Chantry books and Cullen could not sleep.

The Tevinter mage turned everything Cullen knew about the Imperium on its head.  Dorian admitted he was considered a pariah in a very small political and rhetorical minority.  He abhorred blood magic.  He believed that there should be control over some magic use.  The Tevinter already warned the Inquisitor to use the Imperium as a cautionary tale of mage self-governance, especially as the southern mages determined their new world. 

On a personal level, Dorian was egotistical and pushy.  Most of Skyhold called Solas the bookworm, but Dorian applied more to the stereotype, hating the outdoors and picky about stains on his fine robes.  He could not keep someone’s secret if his life depended on it.  If he spoke about his life, he said one thing, but kept details to himself.  Cullen was not a forward person, but found some similarities in the mage that he saw in himself.

Most of all, Dorian shared how Evie handled tasks in the field.  Their equal concern for the Inquisitor occurred accidentally after Haven’s fall.  After Evie survived the avalanche but remained in a coma, Cullen refused to leave her side, getting in arguments with the other advisors.  Dorian typically cared for Evie when Solas rested.  On the third night, the mage and ex-templar argued over Evie’s condition.  Cullen knew he was being unreasonable, especially at the time he believed Dorian was interested in the fire mage.  Dorian called him on his jealousy, finding it humorous.  He assured the commander that Evie and he were just friends who shared a similar life-changing event.  Cullen let it slip about Evie having to kill his red lyrium form in the future, trying to demonstrate that he knew the horrors they saw.  The commander regretted his words when Dorian started telling details Evie left out of reports.  It was not pertinent information, but the visions waned on both people.  That exchange started their friendship.

Cullen knew Evie kept information from him during her expeditions, primarily so he would will not worry.  Dorian filled in the gaps, such as how much sleep she truly gets, if she eats, and how many nightmares occur.  Evie would not appreciate the men discussing her and her health, but Dorian became her protector in the field, while Cullen was her guard in Skyhold.

That day Dorian was the one who needed protecting.  Magister Alexius Gereon was not branded or killed, but sometimes the worst punishment is surviving.  When Cullen learned his parents died fleeing Honnleath, he carried the guilt, feeling his presence could have saved them.  It weighted heavily on his conscience on top of what happened in Kinloch Hold for many years.  Knowing no one else you cared about survived hangs on the heart.  Alexius bore that burden for the rest of his life, while serving his former servants in redemption.

The advisors debated for hours about what to do with the magister.  Killing him seemed the simple solution.  It made sure he could never harm anyone or cast again.  Yet, Evie, after everything she saw in the future, stated he technical did nothing wrong except try to kill her.  The future she witnessed never hopefully happens.  She showed mercy to the assassin archer in Haven.  Could Alexius be executed based on his future choices?

Tranquility seemed the most logical.  He would no longer wield magic and may serve the southern mages.  Evie interjected that tranquility can now be reversed.  What if the Venatori kidnapped the tranquil and reversed the rite?  Alexius’ wrath might be worse than his original plan.  The Inquisition possessed his time travel amulet.  All his research notes were burned in Redcliffe Castle.  Dorian’s contacts in Tevinter made sure to remove his research in the Imperium, although it could have just been moved not destroyed.  The cultists might still have research, but Dorian explained he primarily developed the amulet to make it work.

Evie spent the month since Redcliffe sending letters between King Alistair and Arl Teagan regarding the man’s judgement.  She spent a few days just speaking with Felix and Dorian about the person Alexius used to be.  Once the Inquisitor learned what was killing Felix, she determined the best action.  Personal experience played a role, but Evie believed that Alexius could either be that helpless broken person they all saw or maybe ‘wake up’ and become an activist against Tevinter corruption.  By keeping his mind, the former magister may provide the Inquisition intelligence.  Leliana already admitted they learned a great deal about the Venatori from the prisoner.

Arl Teagan did not agree with her judgement, but King Alistair, Felix, Dorian, and the advisors concurred with her idea.  Alexius knew if he attempted anything, he would be branded and then killed, two deaths in one.  Now, maybe he might atone and become a better person.  Evie believed in people, even if she did not trust them.

The judgement still laid heavily on Dorian.  Cullen watched the Tevinter mage throughout the whole speech and punishment.  Alexius was Dorian’s mentor, helping him realize his potential.  As the hall dispersed, Dorian felt lost and confused in emotions.  Everyone around him believed justice was served.  Dorian lost two friends, Alexius and Felix.  The sick son travelled to Tevinter, using his last breaths to push change.

Inviting Dorian to a few games of chess allowed the Tevinter to step away and enjoy the day than drink and complain about everything.  Well, the mage did that every day.  Now, Cullen just about gave him another complaint, moving his next piece in the chess game.  “Why do I even-“

Something in Cullen’s peripheral vision pulled him from his train of thought, causing him to drop his chess piece.  First it was a flash of white from across the garden like a curtain in a summer breeze, then a grey blue long skirt leading up a slim waist.  Dorian chuckled a little as the commander’s amber eyes followed the sheer belt to a v-neckline for both the long sleeve overdress and a single collared white bodice under dress.  Evie’s bright green eyes shimmered as her hand played with her amber pendant.  She still wore kohl around her eyes, but the gold eye rogue was replaced with a silver blue to match her embroidered overdress.

“Maker’s breath…”  Cullen mumbled, watching the Inquisitor glided through the garden towards the gazebo.  Every so often, she nodded and smiled at Chantry sisters or courtiers sitting on the benches.  She stopped about ten feet away to pray at the specialized plaque placed by a new sampling to honor Chancellor Roderick.

Cullen bumped the garden table with his armored knee as he rose from his seat to greet the dazzling woman.  “-Inquisitor!”

Dorian devilish smirk grew.  “Leaving, are you?  Does this mean I win?”

Evie waved her angelic hand downward for the commander to sit.  “Please.  Don’t stop on my account.  I am just here for some fresh air.  It seems like you both had the same idea.”  Her bright green eyes flicked at the chess board.  “Enjoying the Thedas chessboard, I see?  Are you two playing nice?”

Dorian’s sassy eyes glanced back at the blushing commander who hid his gapping mouth with his gloved hand.  “I’m _always_ nice.”

Cullen glared at him, knowing the mage was impressing his shy and bashful expression into his mind to tease him later.  Dorian figured out quickly Cullen pined for Evie.  The man questioned the commander into a corner during one late night conversation.  Cullen was not aware of what he was saying, and Dorian egged him on like a teasing younger brother.  If that bloody mage says anything to-

“You’re taking this rather seriously?”

Cullen looked up at the grinning woman beside the seated men.  She crossed her arms over her chest, tilting her head to the side in curiosity.  Part of her bangs loosen from her low braid that surrounded her neck and ears.  She looked more like Evie instead of that model Herald of Andraste she personified earlier in the grand hall.

Dorian laughed once, shaking his head.  “He is, isn’t he?  Afraid to lose, Commander?”

Cullen huffed, breaking his stare from the gorgeous woman to his left.  He leaned forward, touching his fingertips together.  His eyes focused on the chess board.  “All right.  Your move.”

Evie grinned and shook her head.  She threw Dorian a look as he moved his knight.  “You need to come to terms with my inevitable victory.  You’ll feel much better.”

Cullen locked eyes with his friend, grasping his queen and placing it in position.  Dorian never noticed his flank.  “Really?  Because I just won,” Cullen leaned back in his chair, beaming with pride.  His gauntlets rested on the chair’s arms.  He was completely relaxed.  “And I feel fine.”

Dorian’s eyes glanced over the table.  Evie covered her lips with her hand, seeing the end move.  The Tevinter’s brash attitude deflated as he turned his body to get up.  “Don’t get smug.  There will be no living with you…”

Dorian stood up by the Inquisitor, kissing her on the cheek briefly.  “Good job this morning…and thank you.”

Evie nodded, allowing the mage to walk away with some dignity for the remaining day.  Her attention turned to Cullen, smirking and shaking her head.  “I saw what you did, Commander.  You flanked him, while he was too busy cheating on the left side of the board.  You let him think he was winning while you set your pieces in place to attack.”

Cullen chuckled, nodding.  “So, you _do_ know how to play.  Here I thought you were just humoring me a few weeks ago.”

“I know how to play.”  Evie tilted her head again, eying the former templar closely.  “I notice everyone else’s mistakes except my own.  It is easy to see flaws in others.  A person who knows themselves _too_ well cannot have an unbiased opinion.”

“I believe you assess situations well, Inquisitor.”  Cullen commented.  “You’re a good judge of character, and your instincts saved lives.  I believe you cannot make mistakes.”

Evie rolled her eyes.  “Please, I’ve been pondering over my judgement since the words poured out of my mouth.  I’m waiting for everything to bite me in the ass.  I don’t know if just allowed a mass murderer to live or gained an ally.”

Cullen waved in front of him.  “Care for a game?  You can’t just wander the gardens regretting all afternoon.”

Evie smiled and nodded.  “Sure.  Prepare the board, but please select the Free Marches set for me.”

Cullen rose from his seat, walking towards a wooden ornate cupboard they placed for games and books.  The Inquisitor stated the gardens should have two purposes, reflection and peace in the Maker’s chant, and joy and friendship to show the Maker love.  Everyone in the Inquisition enjoyed the area, knowing drinking was discouraged and low voices were appreciated.

Evie designed Skyhold with symbolism everywhere, balancing faith, culture, purpose, and unity.  Vivienne complained the features in the grand hall were a little quaint and not bursting with color like Orlesian estates.  Josephine brought the issue to Evie, who told her the Iron Cunt did not know her own ass or she would not shove her head up it all the time.  Curtains in the grand hall reflected the Inquisition’s focus in Thedas.  Josephine instructed workers just after judgement to change to Orlais’ colors, showing shifting priorities to the empire.  Statues depicted Andraste and her followers, but also contained elven cultural figures and dwarven stone work.  The alliance mages were receiving their own tower, but the Templar Order had specialized barracks with personalized training grounds.  Evie knew she walked a fine line between unification and blasphemy.

Evie carried the Tevinter chess pieces Dorian used and placed each carefully inside the cupboard, while Cullen removed the Free Marches styled units.  “So you’re the one who purchased this set?”

Evie smiled, eying the man through her auburn bangs.  “Is that an issue?”

“How did you know people would enjoy chess?”

“The chess tournament once the advisors and I were gone was a clue.”  Evie grinned, turning away once her task was complete.  Her dress illustrated her graceful presence and inner beauty usually lost under her armor and temper.

Cullen would be first to admit she was awing in anything she wore—or didn’t.  He gritted his teeth.  He needed to keep his thoughts clean, closing the cupboard door and returning to the table with her set.  “I just assumed that dress and the one from this morning _was_ your business trip to Val Royeaux too?”

Evie tilted her head and shrugged.  “I finally went shopping.  I no longer had to look like a noble doll or wear those rough Circle robes.  Harritt is taking a deep breath because I’m not destroying his armor every trip, and it gives Dagna time to masterwork some new pieces for the Western Approach.  What?  You do not like this look?”

Cullen swallowed.  He assisted her arranging the pieces on the board.  “N-no.  I-I only meant that I thought you would change into more comfortable clothing after this morning.”

Evie giggled, leaning back in her chair.  “This is comfortable.  Besides, it took an hour to get me into this under bodice, and Fesill and I did not want to deal with it again.”

Cullen’s amber eyes widened, thinking about her small clothes.  His face burned.  Evie was being very forward today.  She was witty, but usually with sarcasm or complaining about someone making a mistake.  This was another side to her that she never allowed to show through.  It is easy to assume she was like a mirror, showing the same thing reflecting back.  No, she was a house of mirrors with varies angles and personas.  The commander wanted to know them all.

Evie was just as brazen that morning watching the sun over the battlements. 

Cullen’s eyes shifted to the hanging amber focus stone around her neck, waiting for Evie to make the first move.  In response, his hand reached into his coat pocket, feeling the gold Fereldan sovereign first in the chest pocket.  With just a small movement of his fingers, the smooth amber stone rubbed against his grasp.

The commander nearly fell over the battlements that morning when Evie told him she found the stone on his dead red lyrium corpse in the future.  She stated she dropped her staff over the Frostback Mountains, smashing it to pieces against the rocks.  Maker, they were interconnected.  How long afterwards did Cullen take the walk in the night and find the battered gem on the ground?  How much time did it take for him to buff out the scratches and dents so it shimmered like her?  It should not have surprised him he still held it even as a horrific creature.  It burned like her.  Its surface was like her scarred skin.  Its inner bits of caught ancient debris described her inner mind and soul, always fascinating him and drawing him closer to her.

Evie admitted she wore the jewelry to always have Cullen close.  In a small corner of Cullen’s heart, he yearned that it meant what he hoped it did.  Maybe she held feelings for him and said that sentence to push him a little.  Had she noticed his stares and soft piano in the Fade, admitting more about his state than he wished?  Yet, the dark corner of his mind reminded him of two things:  Maya Amell and her statement in her room a month ago, saying she wanted to be friends.  Hope and reality pushed against one another in his chest.  Maybe her opinion of him changed since speaking more freely to one another the last few weeks.  Maybe friendship was only the beginning?

Reality smacked him mentally.  She was their leader, and he the commander of her armies.  Cullen caused her great harm in the past, and he could still bring more pain like he had done to Maya Amell.  No, this must remain in a nice friendship.  He did not deserve this flaming goddess sitting across from him.

Cullen moved his piece instead to officially begin the game.  His mind started orchestrating his plan of attack.  Now that he knew Evie could actually play chess and not pass out in the middle of a silly match, he needed to be serious.

 _Or_ he could let her win?

The commander gritted his teeth, wishing his hoping side of his interwar would just give up and allow him some peace.  The chess game with Dorian relaxed Cullen.  This was only the beginning and he was wound tight like a readied, calibrated trebuchet.  He smirked a little, watching Evie lean back and study him.  If he did not try, he could relax and just observe her.  She might gain some confidence in her abilities.  Suddenly, his internal struggle released with Cullen’s decision.  Somewhere, his sister Mia was screaming into the air, knowing her brother gave everything his all.  The commander mentally remarked only this one game he would relinquish his competitive nature.

“Where did you learn to play?”  Cullen asked, responding to her piece movements with little regard to his own offense.  He would still remain defensive in the game.  It did not want his obvious loss to alert his opponent.

“I watched Rian and my father play as a little girl.”  Evie cooed, moving her knight into the fray.  “After his parents died, he was self-destructing.  My father proposed the game to settle his traumatized soul.  As an adult mage, blood magic is burned into your mind, watching a person’s life force turn into power.  Rian was only ten, pretending to act dead under the family carriage when he witnessed his parents sacrificed.  It tore him to pieces.”

“Maker…”  Cullen whispered, feeling his own emotions and thoughts travel back to his own experiences.  “You said he became a templar?”

“He ran away to do it.”  Evie chuckled, shaking her head as they continued their game.  “First, he searched for the apostates, a splintered cell of Dalish elves who got power hungry after they rebelled against their clan.  The clan actively traded with humans, developing peaceful talks in the Free Marches.[1]  The apostates were rebellious elven mages who rejected that lifestyle.  They became a major threat to human travelers.  My aunt and uncle fell prey one night when their carriage broke a wheel.” 

A few moments past in silence, trading moves until Evie spoke again.  “When Rian realized he would never find the ex-Dalish blood mages, he stole a horse and some money and declared his intention to Ostwick’s Grand Cleric.  My father could have told the grand cleric it was a mistake, but the Trevelyans are truly ‘bold in deed’ and allowed Rian to become a templar.  I had no doubt he would be successful.  He was fierce chess player and very dedicated.  Once he left for training, Father taught me, although grumbled about my silly moves which were obvious traps.”

The mage’s bright green eyes glanced up at Cullen, almost causing the ex-templar to nearly fall out of his seat from the beautiful sight.  “What about you?  I didn’t know templars played such games?”

“Wicked Grace maybe, but no.  I played chess in my youth.  My sister Mia would get this stuck-up look whenever she won—which was _all_ the time.”

“So, that’s where that smug look came from?”  Evie smirked.

Cullen rolled his eyes, trying to break his arrogant facial expression.  “My brother and I practiced together for weeks.  The look on her face the day I finally one.  Between serving with the templars and the Inquisition, I haven’t seen them in years.”  His thoughts and words wandered in the mountain breeze.  “I wonder if she still plays.”

“Do they know you’re here, especially after Haven?”  Evie asked, concerned.  “They probably worry all the time.”

Cullen winced.  “She’ll find me.  She always does.  They understand.”

“What in the Void, Cullen?!”  Evie hollered, causing a few Chantry sisters to throw her a look.  “If you pull that on me, I will tar and feather you and set you aflame.”

“I would never dream it.”

Evie blinked a few times.  “Thanks for the reply letter, by the way.”

Cullen sunk in his garden chair.  She was being sarcastic.  He never wrote her back.  He was too angry and afraid to reply.  “I knew you were coming back-“  His voice cracked.

“ _Right_ …”  Evie huffed, moving another piece.  In the last few moments she made three terrible moves that would have cost her a rook and a bishop.  It was good he was letting her win.

“B-besides,” he cleared his throat.  “I was fuming that you decided to take on _two_ dragons with no regard for your own life.”

Evie rolled her eyes.  “Please.  For the first dragon, it was a needed task that happened quite quickly.  The second dragon bugged the farthest east Inquisition camp in the Hinterlands.  At the time, I avoided it, knowing fire against fire was useless.  After our success in Crestwood, I reconsidered.  The whole team joined that time.  It went down with little effort.  I even sent Arl Teagan part of the prize because he was upset with my proposed judgement.  Both slayings held purpose.  Cassandra actually looked alive for a while afterwards, telling stories and drinking with us…until Varric opened his mouth.  In the end, I’m safe and fine, see?”

Of course, Evie was logical and thought out explanations for the dragon slayings.  Cullen had no doubt.  It was that she did it anyway that tore him up.  He huffed and continued to play the game.

“Write your sister when we’re done.”

The commander glanced up at her, seeing sorrowful eyes and a heavy head.  Immediately, Cullen felt like an ass, knowing she thought about her own brothers.  “I-I will.  I guess I forget people care about me.”

Evie masked her attention.  He placed the hook in the water there, wondering if she would respond.  He did not on the battlements, regretting that for every second since.  She bit her lower lip, rubbing a temple as she made another silly move.

“…So…how many siblings are in the Rutherford clan?”

Damn.

Cullen pinched his nose, pushing his disappointment away from his facial expression as much as possible.  “Two sisters and a brother.”  His voice was rough.

“You the youngest?”

Cullen sighed, regaining his composure.  “Oldest son.  Mia is the oldest sister, Branson is after me, and Rosalie is the baby.  Rosalie was barely six when I left for training.  She does not look like Mia, taking more after our mother, so I may have seen her walking down the street and not even know it.  Branson served in the Fereldan army for a while after the Blight.  Mia dragged him back to the farm once she found out.”

“She sounds like a force to be reckon with.”  Evie giggled.  She rested her chin on his marked hand.  Cullen struggled to keep himself stolid.  This woman twisted him into knots and left him as a puddle on the stone floor.  “I _really_ don’t want a nasty letter, yelling about her brother’s disappearance.”

“I think you would be an even match.”  Cullen grinned, his lip curling upward around his scar.  Evie’s eyes widened suddenly, focusing on his face intensely.  “Mia doesn’t fear magic and is fierce with a garden hoe.”

“I-I’ll keep that in mind.”  Evie coughed a little, rubbing her throat.

Cullen’s temperament shifted drastically seeing her half exposed neck.  The last time he saw her it was black and blue.  Now, only small shades of yellow and green remained.  “Does it hurt?”

Evie continued to rub the expose skin with her marked hand.  “No, it stopped aching after two days.  The metal claw did not leave lasting scars.  I don’t think I need more-“ The woman froze.  Her expression turned to sheer terror.

Cullen could not tell her he knew about her scars.  What would Evie think of him?  He watched her back then like an object, lusting for her body.  Evie was not something to possess.  She was someone to cherish and worship.

The commander’s mind drifted back to the judgement that morning.  The spectacle occurred as planned.  The Inquisitor look radiant in that gold-red gown holding the new Inquisition sword.  However, that was not Evie.  The woman speaking over the audience and discussing punishment was _the_ Inquisitor, _the_ Herald of Andraste.  As everyone else awed and sang the chant with their great leader, Cullen nearly purged.  It was Evie’s bright green eyes.  They were dead.  There was no light, no flame.  The fire in her eyes was gone.  When Evie spoke about her disdain in the kitchens, she stated the strange boy Cole remarked she was snuffing out her flame.  The Inquisitor mantle buried her true soul under piles of bullshit.

Dorian and Cullen spoke a great lengths about Evie’s new station.  The mage was furious that the commander relented to the advisors.  Despite swearing he would protect Evie, the damage was already showing in her eyes.  Sitting across from him that early afternoon was Evie, but she did not smile as much.  Her face did not morph constantly with her fury emotions.  Her glimmering eyes darkened like smoke from a blown out torch.

Cullen was failing her again.  Evie was being consumed by the Inquisitor.

The commander ran his hand through his blond hair, releasing the sage scent from the relaxing tonic, just another piece of Evie always with him.  “A mentor told me in training that scars were badges of honor.”  Evie threw him a look, cautious and wary.  “He said because that means we survived the ordeal.  No matter if it is a scratched knee or a blade across your back, the scar signifies to everyone _you_ survived.  He always showed his badges to the recruits from rage demons or blood mages, saying he honored those scars because he was older, wiser than before the fight.  No matter the scar, Eve, _you_ survived.  Wear them with honor and pride.”

The mage shook in her chair, pressing her marked hand to her lips to contain the urge to sob.  Cullen did not mean to make her sad, but he was relieved he finally told her what he thought of her marked body.  All she knew was that he remarked on Fenris’ choke hold.  The commander watched intentionally as she rubbed her forehead scar into her brow, seeing the tears well up in her eyes.

After a few moments to compose herself, Evie met his amber eyes, beaming happily.  “Thank you…”  Cullen nodded and smiled back.

Evie cleared her mouth, studying the chess board.  Her smile dissipated as her eyes scanned the pieces.  Her cheek twitched as her bright green eyes glared up at him like an inferno.  “You’re letting me win!”

Cullen blinked, leaning forward.  How did she know?  “W-what do y-you mean?”

“You’re remaining defensive.”  Her eyes and hands studied the board.  “Yet, you have not flanked or directly assaulted my pieces.  I see five mistakes that you should utilize, but you’re remaining in your territory!  The last time we played, you wouldn’t have hesitated!”

 _Shit_. Cullen ran his hand through his hair again, leaving his gloved hand on the back of his neck.  “I-I guess I am not a good as I thought today?”

Evie rolled her burning eyes.  “Bullshit.  You know I absolutely hate people not giving their all.  You _always_ act fully on everything you do.  A person can’t be serious all the time, but you, Cullen Rutherford, has proved me wrong!”  Evie flipped her hands in air and leaned back in her seat.  She look absolutely pissed off.

Cullen sighed, pursing his lips trying to think of a way to dig himself out of this hole.  He should have known Evie wanted to play fair.  She appreciated people who gave as much as she threw out.  That is why they were becoming such great friends because Cullen pressed her and she did him.

“What can I do to make up for my terrible judgement?”  He hung his head, knowing her temper was about to explode.

“Dawn tomorrow.”

Cullen’s amber eyes flipped up, viewing a devilish smirk across the mage’s face.  “Excuse me?”

“You promised me to train me with a sword.  Dawn tomorrow.”  Evie snapped like it pained her to repeat herself.  “No holding back.  No armor.  No magic or dispelling.  Raw skill.  You see what I am made of to calm your worried little head, and I will have an opponent who will not back down, _right?_ ”

Cullen shook his head, seeing he was the one who was flanked.  She probably knew for a while that he was letting her win, but allowed the charade to continue so she could call his bluff and respond with a swordsmanship practice.  The commander contemplated for weeks multiple ways to get out of practice, fearing what using a sword could do to Evie and his inability to be an objective teacher.  She cornered him, much like Dorian did when Cullen admitted his feelings for the Inquisitor.

“I promise I will be honest.”  Cullen swore, holding up his hand.

“Good.”  Evie rose from her feet, flicking her hand.  She walked away, allowing sparks and embers to twirl around her body to avoid blowing him up.  “Because if you don’t, your hair will be ash.”  She stopped at the base of the gazebo stairs.  The Inquisitor pointed at him sternly.  “And write your sister!”

Evie stomped away, still gliding in that dress away towards the grand hall.  Her hips swayed like pendulum that the commander could not stop staring.  Much like she entered, she nodded and smiled to people in the gardens, although her eyes shimmered with anger.  At least the mage held her temper for now.  She was going to put him through his paces in the morning.  For now, she will probably escape to find some poor nugs to set aflame.  Hopefully, she did not meet Leliana’s pet nugs, Schmooples II and Boulette, who arrived while the Inquisitor was in Crestwood.

Cullen rubbed his chin, smirking.  His eyes glanced down at the chess board.  He tilted his head, reviewing her moves and where her pieces were arranged on the board.  “That little minx…”  He muttered, huffing a few times.

Evie attempted to let _him_ win all along too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] A nod to the Lavellan clan of Wycome.


	16. Fight Club

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, some bad news everyone. During this week I had a doctor's appointment regarding my neurological issues. Apparently, I have been pushing my brain and body doing too much mentally and physically. He recommended I back off on computer time and listen to my body to rest. That means writing will be pushed back a great deal. I did not write anything since the appointment to let my body and brain adjust and relax. That said, I am reducing the number of chapters I post each week to one on Fridays. I am posting today (Monday) and not Friday this week since you all waited patiently. Hopefully, it will be a short term setback, but with all the weather changes and further testing, I fear it will be long term. Me sowwies. :(
> 
> Chapter Song: "Wing-Stock" by Ashley MacIssac
> 
> Knight-Captain Rylen's speech might be weird. I love how other fan fics utilize his Scottish/Starkhaven accent in their writing, adding another layer to his character. (Mark Twain did this for his writings. It is weird to read, but adds so much to the story.) I worked with my husband and some online translators to get the proper accenting. I'm trying to do the same with Sera for the whole cockney-type accent.  
> Trying to evolve my writing as well. This is a nod and kudos to all of you out there!
> 
> Thank you for all the views and love! "A Safe Haven" reached 1500 views!

Jimmy always woke at dawn.  It was before the day guards awoke and the night soldiers came back to the barracks.  The messenger used the strange hour to bathe and dress properly before the washrooms were occupied.  He ate alone, gathering his armor and oversized broadsword and daggers between bites.  He extra oiled the gear so if there was random inspection he would pass with flying colors.  He had not yet because he always missed a spot, but there was a first for everything.  His time to shine will happen soon.

Especially if he wanted to be like the commander.

The messenger wished to be as grand as Commander Rutherford, the best knight and tactician in Thedas.  The templars respected him, even if he was no longer a member of the Order.  The soldiers revered him because he stood with them, always treating a recruit like a tenured officer.  Almost all the troops stated they willingly give their lives to serve under his command.  Furthermore, the officer made both women and men swoon in his wake with his poise and attitude.  He was kind but strict, expected the same as he expected from himself, and always the first to arrive and last to leave.

Jimmy wanted to be just like him.

James Pubert Seaman was the laughing stock in his Amaranthine village.  He always did the wrong thing at the wrong time.  No one stood near him because he was accident prone.  He never suffered injuries, but everyone else suffered from broken bones or a hut burnt down.  His mother told him he was perfect and to ignore everyone’s criticism.  The woman nearly had a heart attack when Jimmy told her he joined the Inquisition.  She whimpered until the day he travelled to Haven, begging him to stay home and be her little boy.  No one in the village believed him when he enlisted, expecting him to run away at the first sight of danger.

If all the naysayers saw the messenger now…

The young man was the commander’s personal runner, delivering his missives throughout Skyhold and alerted the military leader to any emergencies.  The Fereldan knight never called him by name, always staring at the boy every time he fell through the tower main door.  Jimmy believed the commander did not need to say his name because he knew exactly what the officer needed.  They were in sync because they were exactly like.

The boy was personally chosen to be Commander Rutherford’s runner.  Jimmy started as a patrol soldier in Haven, marching around the valley’s outskirts for trouble.  After a slight accident involving a ram, some iron ingots, and a jar of bees, Jimmy was transferred to aid the quartermaster, Threnn.  Well, he only held that position for a week following placing rejuvenation potions beside a strange mold that engulfed the supply shed with fungus and moss and reduced the whole organization to half rations for a month.  By then, Knight-Captain Rylen was Jimmy’s commanding officer.  The captain nearly had a heart attack, telling him to run for the hills.  Apparently, Jimmy could run pretty fast because he was reassigned as a runner.  Commander Rutherford was the only person who never yelled at Jimmy, so he was assigned to the leader.  Jimmy believed the Maker himself blessed him that day.

Yet that early morning, Jimmy panicked, finding the commander’s main door locked and no orders waiting in the mailbox outside his tower.  Every morning before, there were always orders and requisitions that needed delivering.  Like a true hero, the commander worked deep into the night, finishing paperwork so the army could respond first thing in the morning.  There was nothing in the box.  Something has happened to their fearless leader!

Jimmy began whining and hopping, biting his Inquisition gloves like fingernails.  There was no one on the ramparts.  The troops were in between shifts.  He could search for Knight-Captain Rylen, but Commander Rutherford could be choking or stabbed by an assassin inside.  The messenger was on his own.

The 5’5”, one-hundred pound young man that he had no choice.  Jimmy eyed the commander’s tower, seeing the large hole in its second floor side, remembering the envy demon busted through the side a few weeks ago.  He could climb the tower and look inside.  He needed to know for sure if the great knight struggled in a great stealth battle with an assassin.

Jimmy jumped onto the stone wall, gripping tightly on the mortar.  He barely reached foot off the ground when one blue eye glanced inside and saw that the commander’s armor was still on its rake.  Commander Rutherford never left his tower without his armor.  The man must be dead!

“Keep your index finger above the cross guard.  A hammer grip on the hilt only works in close distance attacks!”

That Fereldan rough voice played like music to Jimmy’s ears.   He jumped—more like fell—off the main battlement tower and raced across the bridge to the atrium side.  Jimmy gasped, gripping the stone wall that kept him from falling over the side.

“I should have worn gloves…” A female voice huffed, waving her right hand in the air.  “I prefer the two finger grip, but the bloody blade is cutting into my index finger.”

The commander’s familiar austere groan echoed off Skyhold’s tall walls.  “I told you swordsmanship was difficult.  We can quit now-“

“-If you leave, you will be puking fire for a month!”

Jimmy jumped behind the stone wall.  His blue eyes widened, realizing what was occurring.  Commander Rutherford was fighting the Inquisitor.  Mages should not fight with swords, right?!

The Inquisitor.

Jimmy swallowed, shaking.  The Goddess of the Veil.  Andraste’s Fire personified.   The Light of the Inquisition.  The Maker and Andraste’s Messenger for the Faithful.  Jimmy froze every time he saw her.  She was perfect.  Only Andraste herself was more beautiful, and even then, that was based on Chantry statues.  No artist could capture Inquisitor Trevelyan’s essence.

Ever since the Herald awoke from closing the Breach, Jimmy had been in love with her.  She looked so shaken and confused when she exited her cabin in Haven.  Everyone bowed and kneeled in her presence.  Jimmy did not know the Herald was awake, stupidly crossing across a path as she passed by.  The woman stopped in front of him and smiled.  Jimmy froze, seeing her bright green eyes.  He dropped all the firewood in his hands as a Chantry sister pulled him out of the way.  The mage touched his shoulder, continuing onward towards the Chantry.  The next day they announced she would be assisting the Inquisition. 

Jimmy actually spoke to their leader when she disguised herself as a soldier in Haven.  She never laughed at him, even when his friends teased him about liking her.  Ever since then, Jimmy pined for his love from afar.  Each day in her grand position, she grew with beauty and strength.  She was the essence of everything Thedas needed.

So, why did Commander Rutherford hate her?  They always argued.  The commander stammered and shook every time the Inquisitor was nearby.  The Herald glared at him from across the grand hall.  Was it because he was a templar and she a mage?  No.  Their hatred involved something that Jimmy knew nothing about, and it caused everyone to talk.  There were always whispers in the barracks about them.  People were curious when ‘everything would go down.’  Even the Inquisition’s highest members bet on their final showdown.  The famous writer, Varric Tethras, kept a betting book for just their all-out war.  Jimmy always won other bets, but refused to participate because how could the commander hate the Inquisitor?  Everyone worshiped her.  Why did he not revere her?

“Maybe if we should switch to the practice sw-“  Commander Rutherford pointed towards the armory.

Inquisitor Trevelyan pointed her sword at the man.  “Don’t you dare!  Do the red templar use baby swords?  No.  I always train like this.”  She jungled the sword between each hand, studying the weapon.  “Good call on the one-and-half hand arming sword, though.  The balance and blade is similar to a staff blade.  However, I cannot learn unless I use it against a true broadsword.  That is what you templars use, right?”

“I am no longer a templar…”  Commander Rutherford huffed, rubbing his neck.

Jimmy nearly fell over seeing the knight without his armor.  The Void, the man was not even wearing his leather doublet.  The grass was still frosted from the cold night and the Fereldan only wore a loose cotton tunic and trousers.  It stuck against his sweaty skin.  Commander Rutherford will catch a cold!  At least, he wore his scabbard on his hip through his leather belt like normal.  He has defended himself with less before, Jimmy bet.

The Inquisitor wore less clothing than the commander, nearly causing Jimmy’s blushing to burn his skin off his face.  Her upper half of her body was still covered with an elbow-length sleeve linen tunic that hugged her curves with a blue Qunari-styled criss-cross breast band underneath.  She tied the loose shirt tails on the tunic into a knot, exposing her abdomen and lower back.  Over the training ring’s fence laid the woman’s leather jacket.   Knee-high leather boots laid over thick cotton pants that hugged her hips.  Her scabbard belt hung off her pelvis, not the pant loops, accenting her figure in the early dawn sun.

“Bullshit.”  Inquisitor Trevelyan huffed.  Jimmy nearly died.  The Inquisitor just cussed!?  Maker above, the Herald was furious!  “Now, don’t hold back!”

“Are you trying to piss me off, Eve?”  The commander yelled across the ring.  Jimmy missed the little chuckles.  The messenger just panicked at his tone.

“You scorned me yesterday!”  The mage accused, twirling the arming sword in her right hand.  She prepared herself in an upper thrust position.  She eyed her opponent closely.  “I demand retribution!”

“You?  Scorned?”  Commander Rutherford laughed, widening his stance with his broadsword out in front of him.  “You did the same to me.  Prepare yourself, _Inquisitor_ , because you will taste my blade!”

“Bring it, _Commander_!”

Jimmy stumbled backwards as the two leaders jumped forward.  Metal clanged against metal with a great force.  Both people gritted their teeth.  The commander had more strength, easily pushing the mage backwards, but she dodged to the right and swept away from his strike, trying to flank the templar.  The commander responded in time to cover his back.  The Inquisitor kept moving around and weaving avoid her opponent’s strikes, but not able to gain an advantage.

The messenger had to do something!  They were out to kill one another!  Jimmy took off running, flinging the atrium door open.  He glanced around and up.  The Tevinter mage and the elven apostate were nowhere in sight.  He continued inward, reaching the grand hall.  Servants prepared tables for breakfast, but there was no one he recognized.  Right as Jimmy raced towards the main tall doors, his eyes caught a hint of a red tunic at a far table.

Thank the Maker!  The dwarf writer, Varric, laid passed out at his special spot with letters and bills around him.  His strawberry blond hair fell out of the hair tie, covering his big nose and shut eyes.  Jimmy raced over, shaking the man awake.  With each push, Varric groaned and mumbled until Jimmy thrusted too much.  The chair and dwarf fell over almost into the fireplace.

“Andraste’s titties!”  Varric cried and looked around in both panic and anger.  His eyes locked on the shaking runner.  “What are you trying to do, kid?  Burn me alive?!  You should have just reminded Monkey about Hawke, for sodding Maker’s sake!”

Jimmy blinked a few times, forgetting his original reason why he woke the writer.  “Monkey, sir?”

Varric rolled his eyes.  “Damn…You _are_ one nugget shy of an ingot.  What’s your business?”

Jimmy shook his head.  “Uh…”  He paused for a second until he remembered.  “T-the commander!  He’s fighting the Inquisitor!  With swords!”

Varric did the opposite facial reaction than Jimmy expected.  “Hot damn!  This is going to be good!”  He jumped to his feet and shuffled through all the parchment covering his table.  “Go to the tavern and wake Iron Bull.  He’s probably passed out in his chair in the corner.  Drank himself stupid on three full kegs last night on a dare.  Tell him to meet me…Uh, where’s the fight?”

“T-the main training grounds, sir!”  Jimmy bounced frantically between each foot.  “You have to stop them!  They’re out to kill each other!”

Varric laughed deep in his chest.  “Oh, they’re killing themselves alright…”  He finally located his small betting book.  “Get moving!”

“Yes, sir!”  Jimmy cried, tripping on the grand hall’s aisle rug as he dashed towards the stairwell.

The messenger knew it would be easier to cross the east ramparts around the castle than pass through the courtyard.  That way the fighters would not see him panicked and know he seek reinforcements.  Somehow, Jimmy did not feel better.  Something about the lilt in Varric’s tone gave him an air that the dwarf was not going to help.  Did he hate Commander Rutherford?  Everyone knew about the Inquisitor getting attacked a few weeks ago and the dwarf and commander shouting that same night.  Maker, did the commander attack the Inquisitor?  Was that a prelude to this fight?

The thoughts only forced Jimmy to run faster.  He whizzed passed the Orlesian mage doing her makeup in front of her mirror in the upper grand hall balcony.  He heard a crash as the opposite rampart door hit the scaffolding around the door.  The woman started shouting, throwing vases and other items out the door at him.  What happened to her this morning?

“What’s going on?” The Tevinter mage stumbled out of his room right as Jimmy tumbled into him.  Altus Pavus only wore a towel around his waist as Jimmy scrambled around the man in panic.

“S-sorry, sir!  M-must report to the Iron Bull immediately!”  Jimmy cried, covering his eyes as he noticed a bit of exposed bottom beside him.

The altus giggled.  “Boy, there is nothing shameful…why hide?”

“U-um…Excuse me!”  Jimmy jumped in horror.  “Inquisitor T-Trevelyan…!  I-I-“

The mage’s voice shifted drastically.  “Evie?  What’s wrong?!”

“The commander…In the courtyard!”  Jimmy stuttered, racing away.

Behind him, Altus Pavus giggled happily, walking back into his room.  “Oh, this is amazing!”

Did Jimmy miss something?  No matter, he had to alert the Iron Bull.  The Qunari was scary. But he was the Inquisitor’s bodyguard.  If anyone could protect the beloved Lady Trevelyan, it was he.  Jimmy’s felt torn between his idol and the flaming goddess.  He respected and revered both people, but yet they were out for one another’s blood.  Maker, he hoped he makes it in time!

Jimmy pushed the third floor tavern door opened, nearly falling over the banister.  His feet were travelling faster than his body.  He marched around to the stairwell, yelling at the top of his lungs, “The Iron Bull!  The Iron Bull!  Help!”

Groans echoed from the first floor as the out cove rumbled to life.  “What the-“

“Blue Man!”

Jimmy froze as a hopping elf raced out of her windowed room, laughing.  “Bully Bull!  Outside!  You might win, yeah!?”

Right then, Jimmy slid to a stop, tumbling down the last flight of stairs on his behind.  He finally stopped right into the Qunari’s leg.  His head hit his knee, throwing the small man backwards.  Dazed, Jimmy glanced up to see the oversized man giving him the stink eye, while scratching his chest.  “What, Shorty?”

The messenger did not know if the Qunari referred to him or the crazy rogue on the second floor.  Jimmy prayed it was him, barely opening his mouth.  “O-outside…?  S-swords?”  The boy shook more and more as the beast glared down at him.  “F-fight?”

“A fight?”  The Iron Bull thundered at him.  “What’s he mean, Sera?”

“Cully Wally and Quizzy are all over each other.  Couldn’t wait to get inside!”  Sera leaped over the messenger, skipping the whole way to the front door.

“All right!”  The Iron Bull sang, happily.  “Cabot!  You awake?  You might want to break a keg open.  I’ll get Krem.  We’ve twenty sovereigns on this!”  The Qunari lumbered away from the runner, giggling.

Once again, Jimmy felt very uneasy about the exchange.  The Qunari must believe in the Inquisitor greatly to be so relaxed about the fight.  Maybe he never heard of Commander Rutherford’s sword and shield prowess.  When the commander demonstrated tactics and strikes with the recruits, he awe and frightened even the most skilled.  The Herald had no chance against him, even if she used her magic.  He was a templar.  He can dispel and drain her mana.

There was only one thing the messenger could do.  He must alert Knight-Captain Rylen, the commander’s second.  He was respectful and maybe talk their leader back from the brink.  If anyone could resolve the conflict, it was the captain.

Jimmy stumbled to his feet, utilizing the back kitchen door.  He could access the lower courtyard and the underground barracks from that direction.  The captain would be up right now in his room.  The stairwell access point for the barracks was under the bridge to Commander Rutherford’s tower. 

The runner slipped passed the growing crowd around the training arena.  By now, thirty people surrounded the ring.  Only the commander and Inquisitor’s forms could be seen around the people.  No one was stopping the murder-happy people.  They just watched in awe.  Maybe Inquisitor Trevelyan casted a spell to distract them.  No, she never used her magic against allies.  No, something was terribly wrong.

The barrack was lively that morning as soldiers awoke, dressed, and ate their meals before starting their day.  The first group of day guards already left, while the night watchmen returned for their dinners.  People were trading stories and orders during the shift change.  If everyone was present that meant Captain Rylen was nearby.  However, the short runner could not look over the sea of people for the officer.

Jimmy did what he needed to do.  “Knight-Captain!  Captain! CAPTAIN!”

The whole barrack fell silent as Jimmy jumped up and down to look over everyone.  The troops whispered to one another, pointing at the runner like he had the Blight.  He did not care.  All that matter was stopping the courtyard battle.

“Is ‘at Seamen?”

Jimmy smiled.  Thank the Maker, Knight-Captain Rylen heard him.  “Here, sir!”  He hopped again, waving his hand over the guards.  Immediately, the barrack erupted into laughter.  Jimmy never knew why everyone snickered at his last name.  His family were sailors.  There was nothing funny about it.

“Whieest!”  Captain Rylen snapped.  Jimmy saw him by the back wall, rubbing his eyes.  He looked distressed.  His left cheek twitched a few times.  It always did that every time Jimmy called for him.  It meant the captain respected him greatly for all his hard work.  “What?!”  His hand dropped to his side and glared at the runner.

“You must stop them, sir!  No one is doing anything!”  Jimmy panted, pointing at the main barracks door.

“Fa, runner?”

“Inquisitor Trevelyan and Commander Rutherford are fighting in the arena!”

The captain’s face relaxed and blinked a few times.  “How?”

Jimmy could not understand why the man was not sending the whole army.  “With swords?”

Captain Rylen started laughing, marching towards the main door.  “Adda loon, Cullen!”

The troops pushed the runner to the side as they raced to the barracks door.  Jimmy stumbled into a bunk and fell over.  Out of the corner of his vision, he noticed Knight-Captain Rylen clapping and giggling with a few lieutenants.

“Someone get Varric!”

“The commander has it in the bag!”

“No, have you not seen the Inquisitor fight?”

“I wonder if this will break the ice!”

Jimmy just laid there as his fellow soldiers filed out of the barracks.  It took a few minutes for many guards in varies stages of dress to exit the building.  A few people brought their breakfasts, calling it a meal and a show.  No one cared.  No one understood the gravity of the situation.

The runner pulled himself to a sitting position, pulling off his Inquisition helmet.  He scratched his head.  Maybe it would be left to him.  This might be Jimmy’s moment to prove himself, to shine in front of everyone.  The commander might send a letter home to his dear mommy, explaining how he single-handedly saved the Inquisition.

 

* * *

 

“Where did all these people come from?!”  Evie hollered, sliding on one boot backwards.  The mage glanced around her, hearing cheering and chants from almost everyone in Skyhold.

“Maker’s breath!”  Cullen glanced around too, momentarily pausing the sparring.

It started as a simple practice.  Both people met before the sun rose over the fortress in the armory.  They discussed different type of swords and hilts displayed on stands.  Cullen demonstrated the positive and negatives of each, specifically regarding offensive and defensive uses.  He wielded each blade for the Inquisitor to watch and understand.

Evie absorbed the information quickly, asking advanced questions he only expected from veteran soldiers already trained in swordsmanship.  She could distinguished between blades better for shield warriors versus dual wielders.  Evie even mentioned a few weapon styles she saw in her family armory.  He heard from Iron Bull she was a quick learner and read a great deal about each new weapon and armor she encountered.  Cullen contributed it to her family’s mercantile and trading enterprises in mining, weapon smithing, and arms.  Knowing Evie, she probably spent her night researching and studying before their first practice. 

Cullen decided to stop working early last night so he could bath, shave, and try to sleep.  The workload was lighter than usual.  Until the Inquisition received permission to send troops to the Western Approach, he could not establish new supply lines and waypoints.  The Inquisitor and Josephine prepared to leave Skyhold for Val Royeaux.  Their mission was vital to understanding what was happening with the Grey Wardens and in the Imperial Court. 

Since their chess match exchange in the garden, the commander could not relax.  His mind kept playing the whole exchange repeatedly.  All senses told him Evie was not truly angry, just giving the air to cover her own attempt to let him win.  Experienced said otherwise.  If she was truly heated, it was more because he did not give it his all.  The exchange puzzled him.  She remarked constantly that he never relaxed.  The first time he did and attempted to be a gentlemen, Evie reacted harshly.  Maker, the woman confused _and_ excited him.  She was addicting, pulling him towards her like a moth to a flame.  The longer he stayed near her, the more he could not let her go.

Thank the Maker, Cullen’s dreams were pleasant last night.  He went to bed in knots, struggling with himself if he would behave during their sparring.  Cullen did not know her skill level or her fight abilities.  He never served in the field with her, only observed the mage from Haven’s gate during the siege.  How would he react being so close to her?  Would he automatically grab her waist or press himself behind her again like when she broke her phylactery and when she tried to run and beat up Varric?  The fantasy answers travelled into his dreams, each more enticing than the previous until he woke up length hard and frustrated.  No nightmares chased him.  It was one of the first restful and alluring sleep he had in months.

Evie’s training gear did not help the fantasies and his arousal either.  When she walked into the armory, Cullen thought his vision was blurry.  Then he looked again.  Despite the frost on the grass, she wore a light leather jacket unbuttoned with a see-through linen tunic underneath.  She had tied the shirt’s tail together into a knot at her diaphragm, showing off her flat, tight stomach.  Her tight pants and boots only added to her hour glass feature.  Once she selected an arming sword as her sword of choice, she allowed the scabbard to hang off her hips than through the belt loops.

Cullen nearly died when she took off the jacket once they started practice in the training arena.  In the armory, he was too preoccupied with her exposed stomach and swaying hips to register she wore a Qunari-style breast band.  It was cobalt blue, meaning it showed through the thin tunic.  The man could not figure out if she was trying to tease him or she meant war.  Cullen concluded it was both.

This game they were playing was getting extremely dangerous…for all the right reasons.

Both the ex-templar and mage agreed to train before the day guard started their shift.  Evie did not want the fortress watching her practice.  Typically, Iron Bull and she would go to a clearing outside the walls, but time did not allow them to travel since after practice they needed to clean up and report to the War Room.  Cullen agreed, specifically so no one saw the scars that peeked under her tunic every so often when she moved.  One specific scar was newer than the others.  It was still pink on her left side.  Cullen knew it was from the broken blade after Haven.  Somehow, Evie did not hide it, smiling even when Cullen glanced at it during strikes.  Maybe his statement yesterday made her relax.

As usual, Evie pushed Cullen, calling for him to shut up and put up.  She remarked he scorned her during the chess game only causing Cullen to state the same to her.  Both were grinning ear-to-ear, eying one another.  Evie must have heard his piano in the Fade, how happy and excited he felt within.  That dull look in her eyes was no longer there.  She beamed with happiness with the first parry and strike, sweeping under his left arm to avoid his full strength.  This was Evie.

Yet, when Cullen glanced at her as they scanned the growing crowd around them, the mage was panicking and stunned.  She untied her shirt, tucking it into her pants before standing at the ready again.  Her eyes dulled again as the Inquisitor mask affirmed on her face.   Cullen nodded, knowing this was something different now.  She had to act for her people.  Reluctant to continue, Cullen grasped his commander attitude.

Now, it was a demonstration.

Evie hollered at the top of her lungs, lunging forward with an upper hand strike.  Cullen dodge backwards, swiping the arming sword away.  The crowd cheered with glee as metal clashed with metal.  Cullen countered, but Evie ducked and slid away.  The mage utilized her agility to counter his strength.  She was quick on her feet, coming in close to strike then back away afterwards.  If she had a staff, it made sense.  She could strike with her blade, fall back and cast from a distance, flank, and start again.  Yet, if she was smited, she would be exposed during the close and middle attacks.

Cullen prepared himself for her new flank, predicting her attack by her stance.  The mage lunged again, but this time the former templar twisted the blade from her hammer grip, just as he had warned before, and pulled the arming sword from her hand.  The crowd awed as Evie slid away unarmed and startled.  Yet, Cullen noticed a slight shimmer in her eyes.  She was not done with their initial fight.  She raced right, pushed herself off a fence post, and kicked his broadsword from his hands.

“That’s it, Boss!”  Iron Bull called from the tavern side of the ring.

“Kick his nice bum!”  Sera yelled from Bull’s shoulder.

How in the Void were they awake?  Everyone knew after a long night of drinking, Iron Bull was unavailable until midday.  Sera might have awoken with the cheering since she slept on the tavern roof.  That’s all they both needed.

“Don’t hurt his face, Sunshine.”  Dorian warned from behind Cullen.  “It’s his best feature.”

Cullen did a double take once he looked at his friend.  Dorian only wore a dressing robe that barely covered his body.  Beside him was Rylen laughing and clapping.  The captain was always in the barracks at this time giving morning orders.  How did anyone find out about the practice from across Skyhold?!

The ex-templar glanced back at Evie.  The woman was smirking, gathering her magic around herself.  He knew she would not cast.  She knew he lacked the templar abilities since stopping lyrium.  No, she prepared for a hand-to-hand fight now.  Cullen was apprehensive.  Suddenly, all his questions from the night before became very relevant.   Could he remain a gentleman being so close to Evie, especially in front of everyone?  All the knots in his chest and stomach intertwined with his pleasant dreams.

The man cracked his neck and lifted his fist.  From Evie’s stance, she was going to use more kick moves than fists, utilizing a woman’s strong leg muscles over upper body strength.  Cullen hit hard, but somehow he knew Evie could handle it.  Cullen punched, while Evie ducked under his arm, grabbed it and attempted to swipe his legs.  The man spun his arm, breaking her grasp, and pivoted away.  In a fluid motion, Evie bounced off her back leg, preparing a kick.  Cullen adjust with his arms and fist out for the contact and counter.

“STOP!”

It happened so fast.

A thin mass dressed in Inquisition scout armor, jumped over the crowd, but caught its boot on the fence.  Cullen’s attention shifted to defending Evie for a possible attack, but he could not stop his fist.  Evie looked equally startled, trying to redirect her leg.  However, both of them contacted right as the mass tripped in front of them.  Cullen’s fist met Evie’s eye.

And his groin screamed in horrific pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jimmy ruins everything...


	17. Words Into Action

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I. Have. Missed. You. All!!! I am going back to posting twice a week. I don't know about you, but when someone tells me to do one thing, I do the opposite. Ever since my doctor's appointment, I have been non-stop writing. Five long, intense chapters in three days. I LOVE where everything is going. I hope you will too. Keep smashing the kudos button and leaving those comments. Fuel my writing needs. More Evie and Cullen goodness please! YES! *coughs* Like I said, I missed you all.
> 
> The slow burn is almost over, everyone. I promise. Evie and Cullen has been through a lot, and harsher events await them, but I appreciate your patience and input. Please keep posting your love (and frustration). I cannot wait for your reaction on the next chapters! Hehe!
> 
> Chapter Song: "Colorblind" by Counting Crows.
> 
> Slight NSFW descriptions, and a taste of smut that will soon come. :)
> 
> Story utilizes existing events and conversations from Dragon Age: Inquisition, all owned by Bioware and EA.

The back kitchen door eased open as the auburn haired woman edged herself inside.  Through her swollen eye, the mage caught Flissa staring at her, startled by the new presence in her work space.  Evie lifted her index finger to her lips, motioning the bar wench to not react.  Flissa nodded and understood, trying to contain her snickering behind her flour dusted hand.  The Inquisitor threw her a look, releasing her grip on the door handle.

The mage had prayed she could sneak into the Herald’s Rest without being noticed, yearning for a drink to burn through her shameful morning behavior.  She purposefully wore civilian, bland clothing that so she did not stick out like a sore thumb.  Alas, a gush of mountain wind caught the kitchen’s back door and slammed it close behind her with a thundering _thud_ , alarming the whole tavern.  One glance at the incognito woman and everyone covered their groins.  The pub patrons busted into laughter and applause.

“Fuck my life…” Evie whimpered, covering her eyes with both hands.

The mage nearly avoided attending the dragon slaying fete because teasing and jokes awaited her eagerly.  The party was supposed to be a time for Evie to relax and enjoy her first of many dragon fights, especially before she traveled to snobbish Val Royeaux.  Now, that morning’s events haunted her constantly.  By the noon bell, Skyhold’s inhabitants and the bustling hamlet below learned that the Inquisitor kicked the Fereldan commander in the crotch, leaving the man doubled over in extreme pain and rolling in the training area’s dirt and mud.  Evie concluded by the time she arrived in the Imperial Court, everyone in the delegation will know about the incident.

Searching for anything positive, Evie attempted to rationalize the experience, while standing there in shock and covering her blushing red face.  It heightened morale and gave the men something to smile about.  Apparently, the commander and she’s friendship was already the most spoken topic in the fortress.  That was the only logical conclusion to explain everyone’s presence.  The fumbled results just fueled the flames of gossip.  The other advisors found the whole exchange humorous, poking Evie relentlessly during the War Room meeting.  Cullen gracefully declined attending due to an unexpected migraine and wishing to keep some manly dignity.

The Inquisitor flicked off the tavern patrons with both middle fingers, wandering towards the bar for any fermented substance to dull the staring eyes and smirking attendants.  Above the dance floor hung the Hinterland dragon’s skull on full display; its jaw hinged with bolts so it mimic its burning flame threat, using a special large torch tucked inside the brain cavity.  Skyhold placed the Crestwood’s dragon skull her personal lower hall by her secret library and liquor cellar.   A small bit of pride rose up inside Evie’s embarrassed spirit.  She enjoyed hunting as a child, but never imagined she would pursue dragons.  If such hunts continued, she may send her father and mother a bony treat.  Even more, she may eradicate the largest beastly threats in southern Thedas.

Evie flopped down on an empty stool between Dorian and the Iron Bull.  Her single braided hair flipped forward as she slammed her forehead against the wooden bar with a hard _thug_.  As if by mind reading, Cabot slapped a pint flagon down in front of her.  Bull grabbed the pitcher beside him and poured her a drink.  The liquid did not sound like beer.

“To killing high dragons of legend!”  Iron Bull cried, poking Evie in the side.  “Toast with me, Boss!”

Evie slowly peeked her eyes up and grasped the flagon.  An unknown strange smell between apple cider vinegar and rotten potatoes wafted into her nose.  “What exactly am I drinking?”

Bull swallowed his entire flagon in one gulp.  “Marass-lok!”

Evie glared through her bangs at the blue horned man.  “Meaning?”

The Qunari smacked her shoulder.  “It means drink!”

Evie’s gaze shifted to Dorian.  The Tevinter’s grey eyes widened, shaking his head no.  The mage glanced at Cabot the Bartender, who also shook his head as a warning.  “Fuck it.”  Evie muttered, gulping the mixture like the Qunari beside her.  Instantly, her mouth and throat burned like electrically-charged frostbite, while her stomach curdled and twisted in pain.  “Maker’s arse!”

Iron Bull burst out laughing.  “I know, right?  Put some chest on your chest!”

Evie pushed herself into a sitting position again, pointing to her own breasts.  “If my boobs can be the same size as yours, then thank the Maker for this swill.”

“I like your titties, Quizzy!”  Sera beamed happily.  “Just need to let me play with ‘hem.”  Evie glanced passed Dorian to see Varric and Sera drinking at the adjacent bar.  Varric chucked to himself as Sera made obscene grabbing motions with both hands.

“The only one allowed near them is Curly, kid.”  Varric commented, receivng a groan from their blushing leader.  Evie’s head hit the bar again, while flicking off the dwarf.

Iron Bull nudged her again, pouring another drink into her flagon.  “…That little gurgle right before it spat fire?  And that roar.  What I wouldn’t give to roar like that.  The way the ground shook when it landed.  The smell of fires burning...”  His tone lilted like they were back at camp after the first dragon fight.  “Taarsidath-an halsaam.  You know Qunari hold dragons sacred?  Well, as much as we hold anything sacred.  Here, your turn.”

The Inquisitor nearly kissed the blue brute.  Bull was trying to distract her from the others so she could enjoy herself.  As a Ben-Hassrath, he noticed her desire to put the whole fiasco behind her.  He could easily join the others in teasing, but he kept his attention on the party’s true purpose.  On cue, the Qunari refilled her mug.

Evie grabbed her flagon again, wishing he would switch to a more palpable liquor.  However, she was just grateful he was not hounding her.  “That thing you just said.  You shouted it during the fight, too.  What does it mean?”

“Oh, Taarsaidath-an Halsaam?  Closest translation would be, ‘I will bring myself sexual pleasures later, while thinking about this with great respect.’”

Dorian huffed, breaking his silence.  “And your people wonder why everyone call you savages.”

“I bet Evie will be pleasuring herself thinking about kicking Cully-Wully tonight!”  Sera joked again, wiggling her left fingers through the shaped hole her right thumb and index finger created.

“Maker, kill me.”  The Inquisitor whimpered, rubbing her good eye.  “Wait…you shouted that while those beasts were breathing fire and lightning at us?!”

"I know, right?!”  Iron Bull moaned happily, while kicking his elbow backwards. 

Evie sheepishly giggled, shaking her head.  She gulped down her second flagon of Marass-lok, coughing immediately afterward and smacking the bar in pain.  Iron Bull’s expression lit up like a bonfire.  “Yeah!  The second cup’s easier.”

Varric’s laughter loudened and returned to his small notebook, reading something and making notes in the margins.  Most likely bets.  The dwarf never left his corner table without his betting book.  From his hollering and smiles that morning, Varric must have a tab going on Evie and Cullen’s relationship.  Fucking bastard…

Dorian rolled his eyes and focused on his friend to his right.  “You know he feels terrible about your eye.”  Dorian stated, gesturing towards her swollen black eye. 

Cullen was not the only injured party during the exchange.  When that crazy messenger jumped in between them, the commander reached to protect her from a potential assassin, but already had hefty momentum in his arm and fist.  It contacted her left eye, leaving a big black shiner around the eye socket.  Several blood vessels busted inside the eye, so it continuous stung and made her eyelid twitch.

“It wasn’t his fault.” Evie sighed, rubbing the outside of her bruising eye, testing its soreness.  “It just complicates things in Val Royeaux.”

It was true.  Now that she was visibly harmed _again_ , Josephine and she changed their entire approach to Imperial Court delegation.  The ambassador and she had initially agreed on giving a neutral atmosphere to avoid looking like they favored either warring side, choosing white and red as their signet colors with non-kingdom specific style dress.  Now with her black eye, their colors changed to black and gold and resembled military uniforms, giving the message of a dark, fierce fighting force.  The shift allowed Evie to wear darker makeup to mask the bruise and not diminish her authority when meeting the Council of Heralds.  Both Inquisition members were about to plunge into the nobly stupid Grand Game.

“When is that silly city _not_ complicated?”  Dorian remarked, drinking his brandy.  “He’s okay, by the way.  His ego took a beating, but barking orders at recruits softened the blow.”

“You’re enjoying this, I think.”  Evie suggested, eying the mischievous grinning mage.  “You playing nurse now?”

“No…”  Dorian sang, smirking.  “Just relieved to see that smug grin wiped off his handsome face.  I might not win in chess, but you, my dear, put him back in his place.” 

The so call compliment caused Evie’s chest to tighten.  The buried sadness started to take over her outward appearance.  She prayed no one could see her bright green eyes growing dark and dull. 

“I think he just wants to kiss his sausage and make it _all_ better!”  Sera giggled, hopping in her seat.

“I know when to stay away from another’s man, you pervert.”  Dorian hissed.

“Maker’s buttocks!  There isn’t anything going on!”  Evie hollered, slamming her fist down on the bar.

Varric glanced up from his writing.  “Sure…Keep telling yourself that, Monkey.”

Internally, Evie was screaming.  Hearing everyone jab and tease about her emotions brought the woman back to the dark moments of her life.  It was her family and the Circle all over again:  no privacy, nothing tainted and abused, and nothing to cherish as her own.  Years of torment echoed around her like the Fade.  These people were her supposed friends, but they did not understand their quips wounded her than brought joy.  They all knew now.  _Everyone_ knew about her and Cullen’s flirting and internal pining.  The sword practice was supposed to be a personal moment between them, not a public fiasco.

Where did Evie’s plan fall apart?

It began weaving together while watching Cullen and Dorian’s chess match.  Cullen wore that smug grin that stiffen his cut upper lip after outsmarting Dorian.  It only grew when Evie explained Dorian’s fallacy and miscalculation.  The commander seem impressed by her evaluation, offering a game so the mage could redeem herself from a few weeks’ ago.

The Inquisitor never intended to spend the early afternoon sitting across Cullen, trading stories and quips.  After that taxing judgement, it was exactly what she needed.  Fesill probably saved her sanity by suggesting to wander the garden.  The elf stated it would be beautiful in the few weeks with all the flowers and blooming trees.  No, it was gorgeous then, sitting across from the person who could awaken her from her own inner darkness.

Cullen’s smugness continued after his first move.  Something in his piano piece shifted from utter chaos to calm.  He decided something in that moment, finally letting go of his commanding attitude and enjoy himself.  Evie hypothesized it was winning against Dorian, the thrill of chess, and hopefully _maybe_ spending some time with her.

Evie craved to know how large his ego could grow.  It might give Cullen some courage to say something about what stirred inside of him instead of leaving Evie in this constant battle within herself.  Ever since the theater, Evie wondered if her feelings were actually _their_ feelings.  Everything the commander did could be easily explained as his duty and dedication to the Inquisition.  At least that is what her grounded mind kept rationalizing.  She never allowed herself to hope or dream at the prospect, but were the other advisors right?

Suddenly, every word the commander spoke, every gestured was imprinted into Evie’s observant mind.  Cullen did not compliment on her dress, only noting how she spent her time in Val Royeaux enjoying herself.  He responded well to her rebuttals.  She wanted to see how much that man could relax and let go.  Would he be open and bold too if allowed?  The board in front of her no longer matter.  Evie was more interested in the growing game and sussing out Cullen’s true emotions. 

Evie hated she allowed the conversations to sway towards sad topics, such as Rian’s life.  Cullen seem hurt with her insistence to write his sister.  She was a sister once to two brothers, who were beyond her reach.  She remembered her excited joy when she received a letter from either man.  Once she learned more about his family, she swung the discussion towards silly digs and remarks.  Evie wondered if Cullen would write her back in the Hinterlands, possibly yelling about her dragon conquests.  No, nothing arrived.  She brought it up, show her disdain and hurt hidden by a deadpan tone and sarcasm like always.

The mage never expected his statement.  The commander sounded so sad when he realized people cared about him.  Did he feel alone too?  Did he believe no one would cry if something happened to him?  Evie nearly poured her heart out right then.  She almost bounced out of her chair, took his face into her hands and hollered she cared, she would cry if he left or died.  Many nights ended up with her shaking in fear, wondering if the lyrium withdraw and exhaustion would kill him.

However, the Inquisitor chickened out.  Right now, Evie was determining his feelings.  She did not want to admit something that would hinder the Inquisition.  She was his boss and must remained professional.  So, she diverted the conversation elsewhere. 

The Fereldan asked about her neck, and she let it slip about her not wishing for another scar.  Then, Cullen did the unexpected.  He stated scars were badges of honor, proof of survival and wisdom.  A light reignited inside Evie regarding how he might respond to her battered body.  Would he actually _like_ the scars?  No, nonsense.  There was barely an inch of her not burned or streaked with discolored marks.   Yet, his amber eyes glowed a warm soft light that reached the deepest, darkest corners of Evie’s soul.

In the end, the commander angered the mage.  She should have seen the trick sooner.  Evie was so preoccupied with his calm, smug attitude and wanting to dig deeper into his psyche that she never recognized _why_ he was relaxed.  She assumed it was the game and the environment, but it was because he did not care about winning or losing.  Her temper fumed for two reasons:  he would not be smug and brash when he won and that he did not give it everything.  Evie’s fantasies at night always entailed Cullen giving everything to her, and she to him.  He was a man of action, always pushing Evie to be better, and she prayed she did the same for him.  Yet, he did not care during their rematch.  Did he think she could not win? 

Damn that man.

The tavern’s atmosphere only broke through the Herald’s thoughts when Evie kept drinking the refilled flagons of Iron Bull’s vinegar liquor.  Sera kept making comments and actions that would cause Varric to grin.  Dorian snapped eloquent sassy replies that even brought a little grin to Cabot’s grumpy face.  Iron Bull kept rambling about the dragon fight.  The stinging liquor reminded the mage that she as still physically alive.  Her mind kept searching for the weak link that caused her genuine moment to become a circus.

When she was alone last night in her new Free Marcher bed, Evie allowed herself to daydream about the Fereldan commander.  Fesill remembered to let her linen nightgown dry in front of the fireplace after adding a few bundles of sage.  Her hand pulled at its neckline so she could caress the random scars along her arms and the one specifically lining her left breast.  Evie envisioned Cullen’s glowing amber eyes while twirling the amber pendant hanging above her head.  Streaming moonlight created sparkling auras into the amber teardrop once passing through the stain glass windows. 

The yearning barely clothed woman wondered if that same smug decorated his sweaty face when he knew he pleased his lover.  Would Cullen be proud of himself as he watched the numerous orgasms rippling through her body until he himself let go and joined her the magnificent ecstasy?    Her fingers desired following his cut muscles like that night in Redcliffe and in his office after he saved her from Fenris’ grasp.  Evie’s body ached for his touch and attempted to release herself, but failed miserably.  She fell asleep wet and frustrated, damning the man for twisting her into a knotted mess until she wanted to explode.  Even her blissful wet dreams teased her into just left her screaming to suck Cullen’s thick, long cock and taste his seed slide down her throat.

            Evie awoke an hour before sunrise with the best plan ever.  She already trapped Cullen into training her with swordsmanship, punishment for jeering her during the chess match.  Despite being a mage, she already knew a great deal about the fighting style since her family included generations of warriors and templars.  She read nearly everything available in Ostwick’s Circle library.  At the time, Evie studied arms and weapons for self-protection purposes.  Now, it would be useful to throw the commander for a loop. 

However, the Inquisitor’s scheme could actually allow her to know if he craved her physically as much as she did.  It was ludicrous to propose, but his story about scars showing a person survived malicious experiences gave her the courage to show more skin.  The idea of using her body as a distraction never calculated in anything Evie ever tried, especially since she considered herself hideous.  Yet, that morning, she wanted to use everything curve and mound at her disposal.  If someone was attracted in another, it did not matter their body condition, but more about showing areas of the body usually modestly covered.  Evie must know if he was just being the commander or was Cullen sending signals too.

Evie received her answer very clearly when she strutted into the armory this morning.  Cullen’s piano thundered all over the place when she waltzed in with her swaying hips and exposed midriff.  The mage purposely bent over and reviewed the different swords, accenting her rounded ass in her tight training pants.  She even bumped into the nervous commander while intentionally stumbling into an armor stand.  Once selecting the arming sword, she allowed the scabbard to hang loosely off her hips, insinuating every curve of her thin and limber hour glass figure.  The scabbard would be a tripping hazard during the fight, but from his gapping mouth, it was worth the risk.  His red cheeks and stumbling words, Cullen was a sexually aroused mess. 

All descent women know never wear a darker color under white, yet Evie wanted him to see—and fantasize what lay beneath—her band.  Once her jacket slipped off her shoulders, Evie physically felt and heard Cullen’s lips smacking together and an escape groan rumble throuhg the courtyard.  If the commander did not jump her by the end of the exercise, he either did not desire the mage or preferred men, something to inform Dorian about.

The woman did not account that Cullen may distract her.  It made sense he would not wear his leather doublet or armor while training.  Yet, she had not seen him in less clothing either.  Her mind could not remember exactly what he wore in Redcliffe Castle.  At the time, she was just relieved to tell him about the alternate future without falling to pieces.  Maker, the man was delicious.  His sweaty tunic accented every tight and strong muscle along his upper body following a few demonstrations of attack and defense.  His pants were tightly hung in all the right places.  She almost grabbed his butt cheeks a few times, barely able to control herself.  Evie almost wanted to act dumb, grab a glass of wine, and just watch the commander move and demonstrate, glimmering with dripping sweat and huffing in the frosty morning air.  If she had, the woman would have not been able to stand without support or grabbed his calloused hand shove it down her pants just to achieve some release!

In response, the sword student initiated the next level of her plan.  Evie needed to make the practice as close and personal as possible.  If he could act impartial and indifferent despite them thrusting and rubbing one another, the commander shared no personal feelings for her.  If he responded like how Cullen had every time something happened and he grabbed her or touched her, then the advisors were correct.  Most unlikely but highly desired, the aroused adult might rush into near storage cellar and finally give in to the primal sexual needs.

However, their morning privacy ended quite quickly.  Somehow, Skyhold’s guards and the Inner Circle discovered their training exercise and demanded a fighting contest between the leaders.   Evie suddenly felt her personal time ripped from her soul.  She must be the Inquisitor instead.  She just wanted to finish sparring and hide her hideous overly-exposed body inside her tower.  The whole Inquisition reminded her that even if Cullen shared her feelings, it would never amount to anything.

A single tear ran down from Erie’s black eye.  She leaned forward and allowed her loose bangs to cover her expressed sadness.  A wise man once said, ‘I used to think the worst thing in life was to end up all alone.  It’s not.  The worst thing in is to end up with people that make you feel all alone.’[1]  That is how the Inquisitor felt in that moment surrounding by joyful and celebrating people, some of which she considered friends.

“Have another drink, Boss.”  Iron Bull nudged her in the side.

Evie immediately wiped the tear away and lifted her head.  She smiled and giggled, allowing the alcohol to consume her and wear the party mask of a happily drunk woman.  Her soul might be dying, but she must keep up appearances.  She was the Inquisitor.  She accepted this role and must finish what she started.  ‘Bold in deed’ as usual.

The Iron Bull lifted his flagon, clearing his throat.  The whole tavern responded and stopped talking.  “To dragons!”

Evie bounced out of her stool, grinning a false smile from ear-to-ear.  “To finding the biggest, baddest things in the world and showing them that we’re badder!”

Everyone burst out laughing.  Some patrons covered their groins again, while most drank and cheered.  In those moments, the swill blurred her thoughts, allowing herself to just feel numb and hide the sorrow in deep corners of her being.  The only truly aware person seem to be Iron Bull, whose one eye kept burning into her dull stare. 

“Anaan!”  The Qunari cried out again, pulling Evie close to him.  The mage expected him to let go right afterwards, but he kept his hand on her shoulder in a tight embrace.  He kept cheering and having the bar focus on him, knowing that she was breaking into shattered pieces.

 

* * *

 

“The migraine is that bad today, isn’t it?”

The commander glanced to his left, startled to see Leliana standing there and analyzing him.  As much as Cullen attempted to hide the anguish, the rogue could see his twitching eyelids and gritting teeth.  In one fluid motion, the spymaster laid a cup of lavender tea on the stone tower in front of the Fereldan, smiling slightly.  She wanted him to know that she was concerned without showing she had been studying him for the last bell from her tower. 

Leliana’s position in the Rookery gave her full view of Skyhold, specifically the bridge leading to Cullen’s headquarters.  Every afternoon, the man stood on the battlements and watched his officers drill recruits, making notes to himself.  Runners kept coming and going as he responded to inquests.  He was predictable military man whose life was carefully plan since recruitment.  That engrained schedule and strict manners would always be a part of his life thereafter.

Yet, that afternoon two days after the Inquisitor left for the Orlesian capital, Cullen broke his pattern.  He paced back and forth along the bridge, snapping at runners when they approached him.  He forgot his notebook in his office, either accidentally or on purpose.  He kept pinching his nose and rubbing his eyes.  The man only relaxed for a few moments when he ran his gloved hand through his hair and closed his eyes.

First reluctant, Cullen’s hand hovered over the tea cup until he could not manage the tremors a moment longer.  Once the hot herbal liquid touched his lips, he relaxed and his shoulders rolled backward.  He lowered the cup after a few sips and breathed deeply, almost smiling until another migraine wave overcame him.

“Thank you…”  His rough, austere voice whispered.

The two advisors never openly discussed where his debilitating illness originated.  Leliana did not need to ask.  Even Cullen’s pattern explained why he could not sleep at night or refused to eat at meals.  If the man still took lyrium, he would be a part of the growing templars meeting to pick up their draughts in their special supplies stores every morning.  The commander would have complain about the lack of flavor to his food.  Most of all, he would not be screaming after a night terror.

However, Leliana never directly asked about the lyrium withdraw.  She could tell the commander wanted to keep it to himself, telling as few people as possible.  The Inquisitor, with his permission, explained how his secret almost risked the Inquisition during the envy demon fight, utilizing his mistake as a warning.  Everyone present swore they would keep the revelation to themselves, but whispers already echoed through the barracks.  Unlike Leliana who was trained to be mindful of word phrasing, the others slipped unintentionally about his inner battle.

Leliana remembered Cullen from ten years ago.  When Divine Justinia discussed her contingency plan with her Hands, she noted there was no one to train the potential army.  The Left Hand already traveled to Kirkwall three times, seeing her old acquaintance each trip, first from afar, then closely when investigating the exploded Chantry.  The first time Cullen placed the rogue to what happened in Kinloch Hold, he panicked and acted irrationally.   After a few weeks, he relaxed, realizing Leliana had no intention of bringing up the past unless he said so.  The knight-commander appreciated the gesture and opened up more about what happened in Kirkwall.  That understanding allowed Cassandra to approach him months about serving the Inquisition.

Since then, Cullen and Leliana’s relationship was based on unspoken words.  He knew she could read him well, while anything she said was based on days of observation.  The former templar knew he could not outwit her, even if he tried.  Instead, they fell into a brother-sister relationship based on shared experiences during the Blight.

That is why Leliana stood on the battlements that afternoon, watching the commander closely while drinking the soothing tea.  Throughout the last month, she witness shifts in Cullen’s behavior.  One adoption was a positive reaction, and the second a negative response.  Both were why she stepped away from her duties to tend to her fellow advisor.

The positive reaction was a confirmation Leliana assumed since the early weeks after the Conclave explosion.   She quickly recognized Cassandra was failing to earn the Herald’s trust.  However, Cullen became Evie’s confidante despite sources stating the fire made considered the templar knights her enemy.  Something about their exchanges, both positive and negative, allowed doors to open both between Evie and Cullen.  The spymaster was first to realize the mage actually helped the commander’s withdraw symptoms.  He responded better after being in her company, and his health improved substantially.  The tremors and migraines returned when she was gone for more than four days, leaving him irritable and harsh, especially after a few nights of not sleeping.

The final meeting when the advisors discussed who to approach to seal the Breach allowed Leliana to make an assumed conclusion.  The two people argued, but each reacted differently, either insulted or relieved based on their quips and statements.  The rogue concluded they shared feelings for one another, but they ignored them for one reason or another.

Leliana believed the negative impact was the cause of Cullen’s apprehension.  That same negative response drew away his attention that afternoon.  His eyes followed _her_ across the courtyard from the infirmary to the Undercroft and back.  Something about this tranquil woman kept Cullen leashed from acting on his impulses.

The spymaster already looked into the woman’s past, but still wished to question and understand her connection to Cullen.  “Who is she?”

Cullen did not seem surprised.  His astonishment waned months ago after the spymaster revealed she already knew he stationed the Inquisitor’s brother in Kirkwall’s Chantry.  “You tell me.”

“I have sources yes, but this is something I wish to hear from _you_.”  Her Orlesian accent emphasized _you_ , allowing the man to know she already assumed the story.

Cullen ran his fingers through his hair, resting his gloved hand on his neck.  He massaged it a few times.  “I suppose you are one of very few people who would understand…since you…”  The commander did not need to finish his sentence.  Leliana knew what he meant.  “It happened a few days before Uldred’s coup, a precursor to his intended actions.  You remember Jowan, the blood mage.”

“The man hired by Arlessa Isolde to train Connor in secret.”  Leliana reflected back to the Blight.  “It was his name that I remembered when discussing the secret passage into Redcliffe Castle.”

“He should have never been free, but the templars were unable to pursue him.”  Cullen sighed, pinching his nose.  “His phylactery was broken.  We had no way to follow.  That…woman escorted him into the Circle’s prohibited area and assisted breaking it.”

“But, that isn’t the only reason why she was made tranquil.”  Leliana concluded, nearing her comrade.

“Knight-Commander Greagoir and First Enchanter Irving were in a heated verbal war because Irving wanted to support the king at Ostagar, while Greagoir refused to allow more mages to leave.”  Cullen allowed a moment to drink some more tea and to fight the headache thumping inside his skull.  “Jowan was her closest friend, like a brother.  I knew he was slacking apprentice who always got in trouble, but she kept helping him out of kindness and pity.  He asked her to assist him so he could escape with his Chantry initiate sister.  They were in love and wanted to marry.  She only passed her Harrowing a week before, but…their story spoke to her.  She was in a similar situation…with me.”

The spymaster said nothing.  Her assumption was correct, but to hear the commander admit it took her aback, believing he would not implicate himself.  Cullen _wanted_ her to know.  He needed someone to hear it before he interiorly exploded.

“It was only one night.  We knew it could not happen again, although I think it would have.  Hormones ignited and now unleased.  I know now we were just young, living in this imaginary, disillusioned world the Chantry created.”  The tea cup reached his lips again.  His eyes rolled into the back of his head as the herbs assisted the pain.  “She told Irving Jowan’s plan.  She was dedicated to her Circle, loyal to the end.  The old mage told her to follow through  so both the initiate and the apprentice could be caught in the act.  I was on patrol outside the Circle when everything occurred, assisting templar hunters around Lake Calenhad after a _specific_ mage escaped a few weeks before.  Jowan used blood magic to escape, murdering a few knights, and the initiate, Lily, was sent to Aeonar.  Yet, judgement was difficult against _her_.  Irving stated she did has he asked, while Greagoir argued she allowed a blood mage to escape with no means to track him.  Everything seemed at a standstill, but Greagoir already planned to show her guilt, especially since Irving did the whole stunt to show Lily was an accomplice.  After a few days, evidence rose that she ‘corrupted’ a templar.  In her belongings were small items, that when separated, would have not been incriminating, but how they were gathered showed she was in love with a templar in the Circle.  In most instances, the punishment was lashes and confinement, but combined with the broken phylactery-“

Cullen stopped, rubbing his neck, then hit his forehead with his fist.  “I never said a word when we were questioned.  The knight-commander did not have any identifier to who the templar was.  Irving yelled and hollered for the knight to confess, pleading even.  I was a naïve boy who believed the Order was not corrupt.  I lived with this ideal that nothing would happen to her.  If I ousted myself, I would have be sent to another Circle or kicked out.  Most of all, it could make things worse for her…beat her or held in confinement for a month.  If I exposed myself, I would not be able to protect her from the wrath they would inflict on her person, especially if they learned we had lain together…”

The commander froze, staring out over the courtyard in a daze.  “It was too late when I learned she was branded.  I wasn’t present when the judgement was declared, still patrolling the tavern outside the Circle.  T-they branded a mage.  Not an apprentice, a _mage_ who demonstrated she could control her gift.  I was horrified with not only the Order, but with myself.  How did I let it happen?  I abandoned her to such a fate, forever disconnected from her emotions and memories.  I knew I just made the worst mistake of my life.  That next morning, when I went to confess, Uldred’s coup began.  The blood mages found me in the upper floor because I was looking for Irving and Greagior to turn myself in.  It was the right thing to do.  She only survived because I gathered all the tranquil in the storage closet with food.  That’s why I was captured last…the last to die…to watch my brothers, sisters, and friends die in such terrible ways…I-I believed the Maker punished me by surviving and witnessing all the carnage.  He inflicted guilt, shame, regret, and disgusted upon me…sent me to Kirkwall…to relive everything repeatedly every night until I die…”

Both people stood in silence for a long time.  Leliana watched as his emotions slowly retreated inside him soul again until the commander persona reappeared.  During his confession, that crazed, beaten man reappeared, just like the bard witnessed ten years ago.  Yet, following his retraction, no signs of torture and regret remained except behind his amber eyes.

Leliana sighed, finally breaking the thick tension silence held over the conversation.  “Is that why you won’t tell Evie your feelings?”

Instantly, Cullen smashed the tea cup against the stone wall and leaned against it with both arms.  His head hung in shame, shaking as tremors controlled his strained muscles.  “I have no right to care for her.  After everything I done, even after Maya-“   He caught himself saying her name, nearly purging over the battlements’ wall.  “I am a horrible person.  I deserve no happiness in this world.  I will spend the rest of my life atoning for my sins.  I endure lyrium withdraw because it is nothing compared to the lashings felt against mage backs or losing their emotions.  If I can protect Eve, I will, but I cannot wish for more.  I must remain impartial and her subordinate.”

“She’s dying, Cullen.”  Leliana stated, her voice monotone and strict.  “This position is taking more than we ever realized.  You bring her happiness as she heals you.  You stated yourself that you were young and did not understand the real world.  From what I know about Evie, the same can be said about her.  Both of you are broken, hanging onto spider threads.  If it snaps, you youself will be emotionless and tranquil like Maya Amell.  Typically, I would not interfere, but I am thinking for what is best for the Inquisition and, most of all, for you two.  When Astrid admitted to me she was falling for Alistair, I nearly jumped out of my skin.  What they witnessed was horrific.  His silliness kept her smiling, while her drive kept Alistair from falling apart.  I see the same in you and Evie.”

“She does not know about any of this.”  Cullen mumbled, pinching his nose again.  “She has suffered enough.  I have caused her enough pain already.”

“But you are the only one who can save her, Cullen.”  Leliana turned away, knowing if she continued pressing, it would do more harm than good.  “She will never admit her feelings to you unless she _knows_ yours.  The person she mistrusts the most is herself.  The person she trusts the most is you.  Forgive yourself, and maybe together you two can pick up the pieces and become something legendary.”

As Leliana walked away, she heard the commander sighed and pace a few times.  However, in the late winter breeze, the spymaster noticed a few chuckles and shifting armor.  The rogue knew she timed the moment wisely, utilizing a swift kick in the groin to demonstrate how much of a daft ass Cullen could be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] A quote by Robin Williams, and one of my favorite quotes.  Rest in peace, you great man.
> 
> Some of you might disagree what would have happened to the main character mage if Duncan had not recruited him/her. However, they broke a blood mage's phylactery. For how corrupt the Circles were, Greagior's anger and firm stance against Irving, and the severe consequences of releasing Jowan, I could not help but think that the character mage would have been made tranquil for the crime(s), especially if they stole the prohibited staff, destroyed sentinels, and spoke to the ancient Tevinter statue. 'Corrupting a templar' (thus an innocent nervous Cullen) was just the icing on the cake.


	18. Surrounded

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song: "Shadow of Doubt" from Vision of Escaflowne (not on Spotify, but such a great song!)
> 
> Sorry for the posting delay. Since I really want some art for this series, I've worked the last few days trying my hand. I used to draw for fun when I was younger, but was forced to stop because of my neurological diseases. I am definitely not good, especially compared with the digital artists online. It's taken me all day just to make Evie's eyeball digitally. -_-! I want a picture for each part. Maybe before the end of the year, I will have "A Safe Haven's" drawing done.

The Inquisitor took a deep breath, fighting the gold buttons and toggle closures across her black waist coat to fill her lungs with air.  The thick wool was stifling.  No frosty late winter air circulated through the coat, breast vest, tight tunic, to her sweating core.  The gold rope epaulettes seemed silly on her angled shoulders.  The gorget around the collar hanging below her chin defeated any purpose to protect her neck from an assassin’s blade or arrow.  Josephine kept hounding her to not allow wrinkles to form on her coat tails, so Evie sat strangely in the carriage seat.  The pants were tight in the wrong places with its adorned gold buttons and buckles.  Lastly, the gaiters seem a waste over her boots.  She pleaded to wear knee-high black leather boots and offered to shine them, but the ambassador refused.

Evie’s bright green eyes flicked to the ambassador.  The tremors ceased luckily, although the Antivan’s eyes kept glancing outside.  She could not blame Josephine for feeling frightened and confused.  Just a bell ago, they met the comte.  The noble hinted he had pertinent information regarding the murdered messengers transporting the Montilyet’s request to becoming landed traders again.  It was all a hoax, reaffirming to Evie she was thankful to carry a focus stone around her neck everywhere she walked. 

Now, the Inquisitor was not the only one hunted by assassins.  The House of Repose acted somewhat nobly, vindicating the strange situation Josephine’s request placed on her and her family.  By attempting to become a landed traders again to save her family, Josephine initiated a 109-year old assassination contract signed by the family’s revivals, the du Paraquettes.  Once both women discovered the comte was actually a Repose assassin, Evie nearly set the man on fire and pushed him over the balcony banister.  Josephine stopped her and thanked the masked fiend for his courtesy.

The women’s Val Royeaux strategy now laid in shambles.  What was supposed to be a rewarding trip before the shit storm now only added manure to the dung fire.  They neared the royal palace grounds, and Evie needed the ambassador more than ever.  Josephine should have been clear minded and determined for peaceful discussions and positive prospects for the Inquisition. 

Now, with everything happening that morning, the ambassador was worried and disconnected.  Already, Inquisition troops surrounded her family townhouse to protect Josephine’s younger sister, Yvette.  A crow carried an urgent missive to Leliana to investigate any occurrences against the Montilyets in Antiva.  Throughout the last bell, the ambassador tried to control her nerves, but she was openly frightened.  Her face kept morphing from indifference to sheer terror.  Even with the extra number of Inquisition troops escorting their carriage, Josephine could not relax and place her personal matter aside.

That meant more pressure on Evie.

The Inquisitor suffered her own personal problems at the moment.  During their briefing at Josephine family’s townhouse last night, Evie discovered that peace talks would include one representative each from Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons and Empress Celene Valmont I’s camps.  The empress chose Laurent de Ghislain as her representative and Gaspard selected Germain de Chalons, both Council of Herald members.  The mage asked if this was on purpose since Laurent was technically her brother-in-law.  According to Leliana and Josephine’s sources, no one in court was aware that Evie and Patricia are related.  While Evie was in the Circle, the Trevelyans fought against the idea of magic being a family trait.  Patricia told her in-laws there was a bastard in her family, but the child was dead.

Patricia wished Evie was dead.

However, Evie’s dear sister gave her leverage within court.  Now that her father claimed her as the Herald of Andraste and openly supported the Inquisition, it would not be long before the Imperial Court asked questions and place Patricia and her in-laws in a difficult situation.  Josephine suggested not opening that can of worms during peace talks, but do not deny their relation if asked.  If the connection is exposed during the meeting, it might cause the civil war to erupt again and lose the Inquisition a chance to enter Orlais with permission.

Evie’s wondering mind kept recycling back to Cullen on their carriage ride to bring some relief to the growing stress inside her heart.  Although the mage should have been strengthening her leadership persona, she ached for the commander’s reassurance both verbally and physically.  Yet, Evie was relieved Cullen was safe in Skyhold.  If her sister appeared, Evie did not want the horrible woman noticing her growing feelings for the Fereldan knight.  Cullen could not keep himself from acting out if Patricia provoked them.  The mage knew her human mabari would strike if pushed.  That would only making matters worse.

Evie was on her own in the Orlesian lion’s den.

A third of a bell later, the ornate carriage stopped in front of the Council of Heralds main building within the Imperial Palace Complex.  Evie glanced at Josephine to see if the ambassador was well enough for the diplomatic battle.  Color returned to her cheeks, but her eyes still shimmered from fighting tears.  Once she collected her books and tablets beside her, she seemed prepared for the meeting.

Evie mentally reached out into the Fade, grasping her singing violin for confidence and strength.  A few embers flowed around her head, but quickly disappeared once Josephine threw her a look.  Evie would not use her magic unless this exchange was a trap.  Feeling her arcane abilities strengthened her resolve and kept her temper to a simmer.

Josephine exited first, assisted by an Inquisition soldier.  Evie edged herself towards the door, noticing a few people waiting on the marble stairs to greet them.  Suddenly, Evie wished she listened more in etiquette classes as a child.  She waited for the soldier to reach out his hand to take hers.  For a moment, the man looked like Cullen smiling up at her.  Maker, she prayed it was him.  Evie stepped out with her chin high and her shoulders back.  Her heeled boots clicked against the marble slabs beneath her feet.  She straightened her coat tails of any cresses and stepped forwards gracefully.

Typically, Evie hated frilly dresses, especially in a battle situation.  However, skirts covered any strange walking from prying eyes.  Josephine’s uniform included a long pleaded skirt that reached her ankles.  It allowed the Inquisitor to look stronger and more masculine in the presence of men.  From Josephine’s eyes, Evie knew it was her duty to walk up the stairs to greet the waiting party.  Maker, she prayed she did not trip.  She kept reminding herself that her amber pendant was nestled between her breasts.  Cullen was with her.

Introductions were exchanged with Evie doing little speaking.  Josephine replied to all the simple questions and directions.  As the Inquisitor, Evie must hold the air of a noble as much as she did not want to be one.  Small talk was exchanged as they were led inside, specifically about shifting weather and hopes for the spring arriving soon.  Evie listened and watched everyone.  She was aware her face said everything she thought, so she kept her internal monologue to a minimum.  It worked as they passed masked buffoons and whispering courtiers along the halls, studying her closely.

Evie wished the ambassador had not forced her to pen her bangs back into her braided hair.  Evie used them as a shield when she needed to hide her gaze or scowl, which she desperately wanted to do seeing all the stupid gowns and outfits.  If the courtiers were permitted masks, why were her bangs discouraged?  Every so often she felt one curl tickle her earlobe, reminding the fire mage that just with a single tug on a specific fastener in her bound hair, she could release the flaming waves and burn everything to the ground.

That comforting thought kept the Inquisitor sane once they reached the meeting room.  The groups of people were divided down the middle, wearing their preferred victors’ colors as ribbons on their collars or feathers in their masks.  Each envoy had about five or six people to support the main representatives with proposed demands.

The two opposing representatives were easy to distinguish within the small groups because their masks were more decorated and their costumes displayed their wealth and standing in the Imperial Court.  Germain de Chalons looked like an older version of Gaspard, based on the portrait Evie saw last night.  As the grand duke’s uncle, he differed some in hair color and his stature, a plumper and shorter man.  The first time Evie saw her brother-in-law, she knew why Patricia selected him as her husband.  The man was almost twice his age, but still looked young and attractive.  He had the same blond hair and blue eyes as all the other men Patricia fancied at balls and parties.  He was tall and muscular and drew everyone eyes to him.  If her sister was present, that meant everyone would be staring at her as well.

“Inquisitor, I would like to introduce to you, Arl William Greer of Starkhaven, sent by Prince Vael to moderate peace talks between Grand Duke de Chalons and Empress Valmont.” The seneschal who greeted Evie and Josephine on the front marble stairs and guide within the legislative building.  “The gentleman has been assisting Grand Duchess Fioanne in establishing the Grand Masquerade disguising the peace talks in the coming months.”

The seneschal never needed to mention the noble before him.  His blunt attitude and stature said everything she needed to know.  A part of her was glad the moderator was from the city-state.  Starkhaven rose as a neutral overseer since Prince Sebastian took the throne.  The prince already reached out to the Inquisition for assist rebuilding Kirkwall, although hiding his desire to take over instead, and fight in the name of Maker and Andraste against Corypheus.

The arl bowed to the Inquisitor with his hands behind his back.  “I thank you for your present today, your Worship.  I hope you and the Inquisition will investigate the current hostilities so peace may come to Orlais.”  Arl William’s accent was very rough and sharp compared to all the Orlesian soft lilts and pitches.  From the looks on a few people’s faces, including Josephine, he was difficult to understand.  To Evie, it was a nostalgic breath of fresh and air.

“If the empress just admitted she ordered these attacks during the cease fire, everything would already be settled.”  Duke Germain huffed, sauntering to his seat at the left end of the table.

Duke Laurent rolled his eyes behind his cobalt blue mask.  His light blond hair bounced around his ears as he approached the table.  “Germain, please.  You and I both know stooping to using the undead and demons is something your grand duke would do.  The man has already tried to kill the empress in the past.  He will resort to anything to win the war.”

“Then explain why men from Celene’s army are deserting and declaring the Dales for themselves!?”  Germain snapped back, gripping the back of his seat tightly.

“Gentlemen,” Arl William waved his hands downward.  Evie could tell he heard everything said a thousand times already.  “let us sit and speak like the noble people we are.  If you yell, you are no better than peasants.”

Evie mentally rolled her eyes, reminded every second why she hates nobles.  They look down anyone with “murky blood” and unfavorable qualities.  They spoke about dwarves and elves like they were animals.  Mages were no different.  The only reason why anyone in that room was not sneering at her was because of her heritage, her glowing divine boon, and they needed her help.

“My Lady, please sit before us.  You are guest of honor today.”  Arl William gestured.  An attendant held the back of Josephine’s and Evie’s gold leafed, decorated chairs and edged them towards the tables.  The two representatives followed with Arl William sitting last.  The rough toned nobleman cleared his throat.  “I thank you and Lady Montilyet for coming and responding to our wish for an impartial organization to assist Orlais during this difficult time.  I understand your war against the ancient magister, Corypheus, leads you across Orlais.  Based on these representatives here, the grand duke and the empress will honor the agreement for Inquisition forces to travel through the empire with blessings.  They would not wish harm to come to the imperial people during your holy calling.”

Evie nodded once.  “Arl Greer, Duke de Ghislan, Duke de Chalons, we seek a stable and peaceful Orlais.  If we wish to save Thedas from this monster, Orlais must be protected and secure.  From our debriefing, the current ceasefire struggles align with Corypheus’ attempt to destabilize the empire.  We will do all in our power so the ceasefire and the future peace talks are successful.”

Both representatives nodded, smiling a little at Evie’s dedication.  Both men glanced at the moderator.  “Your Worship, beginning two months ago, a ceasefire was agreed upon by both sides following a year of discussions and negotiations.  The ceasefire required both armies to retreat back to their main fortifications in the Exalted Plains until the Grand Masquerade.  However, after a few weeks, something started happening.  At first, both armies believed it was the rogue elves sabotaging food stores and spreading illness within the ranks.  Soldiers were dying daily from a plague, forcing the survivors to place the dead in pits.  Then, from nowhere, deserters called the Freeman of the Dales proclaimed the Dales for themselves, fighting both armies and weakening their defenses.  Many civilians have to be caught in their raids, added to the plague pits when it was safe enough to roam outside.”

Duke Germain motioned to speak.  “The grand duke’s army are now besieged within their own defenses by Arcane Horrors and the undead.  More and more raise from the plague pits every day.  Soon, no one will be left.  The empress’ army has resorted to blood magic to win.”

“Nonsense!”  Duke Laurent exclaimed.  “Your officers have killed hundreds of civilians outside Citadelle du Corbeau.  Now, tornadoes of fire burn anyone trying to reach the fortress’ interior.  We have not received any communication from Commander Jehan in weeks.  The grand duke is using the ceasefire to destroy the Imperial Army!”

“Please, my Lords.” The Inquisitor interrupted in a harsh and blast tone.  She knew Josephine was glaring at her from the left, but she did not care.  The bickering and blaming reminded Evie of the mages and templars outside the Chantry months ago.  It was another war where neither side refused to look for an outside adversary.  They were so sure and determined to blame each other that they missed seeing the larger picture.  “I think I may explain these unfortunate events.  Has either army encountered red rock that chimes?”  Both representatives glanced at one another and shook their head.  They gazed at the Inquisitor like she was a mad woman.  “Okay, that means red lyrium, a type of lyrium, is not causing paranoia and madness.  That same type drove Knight-Commander Meredith Stennard insane.  Have either side noticed green floating masses hanging in the air, especially since the Breach’s appearance?  They are called fade rifts.”

Duke Laurent nodded.  “Yes, the last missives we received stated strange glowing green and blue lights hung across the river.”

“I concur.”  Duke Germain agreed.  “There are several of these fade rifts near the east and west ramparts.”

“I see.”  Evie rubbed her chin, trying to think of the easiest way to explain her hypothesis.  “Fade rifts are tears in the Veil that allow demons to enter our world.  The Breach was the largest rift and can only be close with the Anchor.”  The Inquisitor took off her white glove and showed her glowing green mark to the delegation.  A few woman in the background gasped in surprised.  The two representatives and the moderator eyed the mark closely like it enchanted them.

“We have heard of your success in Fereldan, Inquisitor, but it seemed like tales.”  Arl William explained, tilting his head side-to-side staring at the green glow.

“To save both armies, the Inquisition must be permitted into the Exalted Plains.  By closing the rifts, we can disconnect the demon’s abilities to enter the physical world.  My Inner Circle and I have encountered Arcane Horrors at these rifts, but none have risen the undead.  It seems there is more than known at the moment.  These deserters must be playing a role in disrupting the ceasefire.  It sounds like Corypheus’ doing.  The ancient magister has meddled in Redcliffe with the mage rebellion, corrupted the Templar Order, and attempted to use an envy demon to take my shape and control the Inquisition.  I suspect that he is doing the same in the Exalted Plains.  We will fully investigate the plague and the Freeman of the Dales while in the region.  Orlais cannot fall to chaos.  The Inquisition will act in corporation with both sides of the conflict to resolve these issues.”

“Can you assure us that you are not utilizing our weaken state to conquer Orlais?” Duke Germain questioned, eying the Inquisitor closely.

Evie sighed, knowing they presented such a picture.  “Please know we are not a fighting force wishing to invade.  We simply are bring order back to Thedas and stopping Corypheus from becoming a god.  Ferelden first believed we were there to conquer, but in time, they saw we were a balancing force that respects and wishes to work in corporation with each nation.  Currently, Starkhaven and the Inquisition are uniting in assisting independent Kirkwall since the Chantry explosion.  Our forces are from many kingdoms throughout southern Thedas.  We are united as Andrastians to fight the darkness unafraid.  We respect everyone’s equality.  I have spent the last months assure my own people and Thedas that I work with everyone as equals because in the end, we all live here and suffer greatly if we allow Corypheus to cross the Veil.”

Both representative turned to their support groups.  Each side whispered and eyed the Inquisition members closely.  Duke Germain took longer than Duke Laurent to return his attention back to the delegation table.  He waved his hand to the moderator.

“Arl Greer, we thank you for contacting the Inquisition, but this was a waste of time.”  The duke declared, eying Evie closely.

Arl William blinked as few times.  “What, my Lord?”

Duke Germain cleared his throat, then nudged his chin towards Duke Laurent.  “My associate just informed me that the Inquisitor is a relation to Duke Laurent.  This is obviously favoritism towards the empress’ army.”

Evie glanced at Josephine.  Shit.  Josephine tried to keep a stolid face, but bit her lip while she shuffled through her mind for a way to defuse the situation.  Duke Laurent seemed somewhat surprised, but refused to look at the Inquisitor.

“It is true that Inquisitor Trevelyan is my sister.”

Evie nearly threw up all over the conference table.  She knew that voice like it was twenty years ago.  It was still high pitched and nasally.  Everyone else turned towards the door.  The Inquisitor refused to, know who lurked behind her like a snake in a bush.  Murmurs mixed with swooshing sounds as the presence approached from behind.  Finally, the newcomer stood to Evie’s right.  A pink gloved hand touched Evie’s epaulette, hinting Evie to stand and face the woman.

Evie’s eye never moved from staring at speck of dirt on the ornate table as she rose to her feet.  The mage attempted to control herself from pulling her magic together and setting the woman on fire.  In the Fade, a harp sang through the octaves in a sickly sweet tone.  The Inquisitor’s dead eyes shifted slowly to the woman, preparing her internal mask for the sight.

They were the same height, but shared no other similarities.  Her hair was straight, sunshine blonde, pulled up in a complex style that accented all her facial features.  Her skin was snow white demonstrating she has never been out in the sun.  Her sky blue eyes twinkled at each person with light pink eye rouge.  Her gown was Orlesian styled, showing her perfectly smooth and flawless skin across her shoulders and extra-large breast peeking over the square collar.  Expensive jewels decorated each dress helm so she dazzled everyone wherever she walked.

“Evelyn, to see you again after so many years brings warmth to my heart and soul.” Patricia sweetly cooed as she held her Orlesian gold mask in her right hand.  “Since the day you were sent to the Circle, I have always thought about you.  Now, to see you as the Herald of Andraste, your faith has been rewarded, dear baby sister.”

The Inquisitor controlled Evie’s wild Trevelyan temper.  Internally, Evie wanted to grab her neck and snap it in two.  She knew she was spatting stupid nonsense to appear the graceful party among the delegates.  From everyone’s expressions, they were buying it.  She bewitched them as she hypnotized everyone in House Trevelyan as those years ago.  As long as she was in front of people who could give her what she wanted, her abusive tendencies remained hidden.

“Patricia.” Evie’s voice was low and almost a whisper.  She nodded, keeping her hands behind her back so she would not punch the woman.

The pink witch turned to Duke Germain across the table.  “My lord, can you not see she wishes to bring harmony to Thedas.  She is the image of the Maker’s Bride.  For her to be my sister and a relation to my beloved Laurent is a simple coincidence.  It has been only recent our own father recognized her divine role as Andraste’s Herald, but I have known since her miraculous survival at the Conclave.  I beg you, Duke du Chalons, to not allow this magister to harm any Orlesian.  If she and the Inquisition are willing to fight demons and monsters, please allow them.  That is their holy rite.  Look at her!”  Patricia pointed at Evie’s face.  “Do you not see the abuse she has experienced with a black eye so she can save Thedas?  She sacrifices everything for this mission, and it breaks my heart that I cannot only watch from afar.”

_What a pile of horseshit, you fucking cunt!_   Evie prayed her eyes did not betray her as they burned into Patricia’s face.  Publically, Patricia praised her relation, but in dark corners and closed rooms, she orchestrated her death.  If Patricia wanted the Inquisition to go to Exalted Plains, it meant she planned something horrible to happen.  Evie would not put it past her sister to frame Evie and the Inquisition for everything that is occurring on the battle field.  She may even direct the Freemen of the Dales herself through puppets.

Duke Germain looked to his delegation, receiving yes nods.  “Duchess Tricia, I apologize to doubt your sister’s role in this delegation.  You understand that it is curious that you never openly spoke about the Inquisitor until recently.  And to have your husband be Celene’s representative…”

Patricia sighed, touching Evie’s shoulder again.  “I _wished_ I could speak about this beautiful woman, but alas, our family was cruel to her just because the Maker blessed her with magic.  Our father stated to protect Evelyn, we have to remain at a distance to avoid strafe with our templar relations.  Furthermore, my wonderful husband was chosen as the empress’ representative _before_ the Conclave.  I thank the Maker that Evelyn is well and with us now.”

Duke Germain nodded, rubbing the stubble on his chin.  “I understand.  I see no other reason to delay the Inquisition’s involvement in the Exalted Plains.  Inquisitor Trevelyan, may the Maker bless you on this crusade.”

“I concur.”  Duke Laurent remarked, standing from his seat.  “You have Empress Celene’s permission and our thanks, your Worship.  Please let us know if you or your people need anything further.”

Evie bowed to all attending, inching closer to the door.  “Thank you, my Lords.  Ambassador Montilyet and I will return to Skyhold immediately and prepare for our excursion immediately.”

“Then it is agreed.”  Arl William smiled, relieved the situation was defused.  “We will wait for you correspondence, Inquisitor.  This meeting is adjured.”

Everyone started to move and speak to one another.  Evie took the moment to march towards the door to escape the building,  Josephine almost stopped the woman, looking like she wanted to speak to a few nobles at the meeting, but Evie threw her a quick glance that said she wanted to leave _now._   The ambassador relented, joining the Inquisitor by the tall white doors, waiting for the attendant to open them.

Then out of the murmurs and conversation, Evie’s left ear picked up that sickly sweet voice that shook her soul.  “Dear Ambassador, rush away before the Repose’s play…”

The door opened right as Evie flicked her head at the voice’s owner nearby, the witch was grinning slightly and playfully.  The mage’s attention fell back on her advisor, seeing the terror and worry in Josephine’s eyes.  The Antivan nearly fell to the floor, but Evie grasped her waist quickly, escorting her friend out of the meeting room and as quickly as possible to their carriage and then Skyhold.

It should not surprise Evie.  All those years ago, her dear older sister toyed with everyone around the mage:  her Circle friends, her mentors, and even her House bodyguards.  Now, needing Orlais to support the Inquisition, Patricia will not stop at anything to harm everyone around Evie.  No matter the consequences, as long as Evie suffered in one way or form, Patricia will do it.

Thank the Maker the carriage was still out front of the Council of Herald’s building.  Evie ushered the whimpering Josephine into the carriage.  Once the ambassador was safe, the mage barked orders to race back to the townhouse and prepare the horses.  They were returning to Skyhold immediately.  The sooner they were safe in the fortress, the better.  Corypheus might be an ancient darkspawn wishing for godhood, but Patricia was a living breathing terror that will make stopping the magister the most difficult endeavor in the whole Inquisition’s lives.

In that moment, while Evie sat down in the carriage and felt the horses jolt forward, the Inquisitor vowed to do everything in her power to protect her friends.  They were in extreme danger, most of all, Cullen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You've finally met Patricia. Thoughts? Is Evie paranoid or is her dear sister as malicious as Evie states?
> 
> Also, I always had a problem that an organization, based on a previous fanatical order, could march across nations known to have problems with invasions. The Fereldans suspect everyone who doesn't like or own mabari. The Orlesians call an Exalted March on anyone who doesn't agree with them. That's why I loved writing this chapter. It explains why the Inquisition could go to the Approach and save the Orlesian military. But that's just me.
> 
> Want to see Evie's outfit?
> 
> <https://thejeeperswife.tumblr.com/post/170433218634/this-inspired-evies-uniform-to-the-orlesian-peace>


	19. Smoke and Ash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song: "Avalanche" by Bring Me the Horizon. (Amazing song that fits this chapter so well.)
> 
> Story utilizes existing events and conversations from Dragon Age: Inquisition, all owned by Bioware and EA

“Demons, undead, and deserters…well, this should be eventful.”  Cullen sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.  Across from him, Evie hung her head, tapping her elbow with both arms wrapped around her chest.  Josephine shook uncontrollably to his left and Leliana eyed him closely on his right.  The only one not bothered during the advisors meeting was Cassandra as she stared at the map, specifically the marker over the Exalted Plains.

“I’m sorry, Cullen, but we must address this before the Emerald Graves.”  Evie explained, sounding strained.  She knew the commander waited patiently for the last month to search for the red lyrium trade route.  “But, if we are successful, we will have free reign of Orlais and can investigate the Graves and Approach without Imperial resistance.”

“It also puts us closer to saving Celene’s life at the ball.”  Leliana added, glancing at the knife marker on Halamshiral.  “Currently, no _unusual_ attempts have occurred while she is at the Imperial Palace. Several spies survey and report within the palace.  Furthermore, more agents gather intelligence within the grand duke’s complex, keeping an eye there as well.”

“Are we sure the assassin will strike at the peace talks?”  Cassandra questioned. “We might be too focus on one assassination opportunity.”

“Yes,” Leliana confirmed.  “By my reports, whoever will strike wants to make it a spectacle so it shakes the entire empire.  If Tevinter wants to reign again in the south, they must witness their largest adversary completely dead and shattered.”

“It also helps that all Council of Herald members and other high government figures will be attending, _if_ it occurs at all.”  Evie suggested, playing with her bangs.  The mark sparked a little, alerting the commander she was troubled and losing focus.  “The Plains are too important to ignore.  If Corypheus whittles down both armies, it means less armed forces to challenge him, thus a smaller unified force when the Inquisition confronts him.”

“It is clear what we need to do.  Possibly after the Exalted Plains and before we hear from Hawke and Stroud, we may approach the red lyrium trade.”  Cullen proposed, seeing Evie’s eyes light up a little.  Since she arrived last night, those green eyes were dull and dead, similar to when she returned from the alternative future.  Yet, after that experience, they returned to their glimmering glow.  Now, they just grew darker and troubled.  Something happened in the capital that troubled her soul.

“I think these Freemen of the Dales are actually focused in the Emerald Graves.”  Leliana commented, reading a spy report.  “Following your missive, we tracked their supply lines.  I reviewed our lists of request for assistance.  A man named Fairbanks, who is guarding peasants and refugees in the woods, asked to meet you, Evie, specifically about these deserters killing or enslaving innocent people.”

“Two birds with one stone.”  Evie sang, tapping her index finger on the map.  “If things go smoothly in the Plains, we will go straight to the Graves and eliminate the threat’s base of operations.  At the same time, we find out where the red lyrium is coming from and hopefully stop the red templars.  I somewhat regret allowing that investigation going cold when we shifted our forces to protect that sister and our retiring troops, but we already asked enough from our men.  It was worth the setback.  Now, Sister Paulette serves us in Denerim and gains us extra support in Ferelden, while we shift our attention west.[1]”

“How do you want to handle the Exalted Plains?”  Cassandra asked, preparing herself for a new excursion.

“We need as many veterans possible to fight the demons and undead.”  Evie requested, reviewing the known intelligence from the delegation meeting.  “This is not the time to mess up everything.  Cassandra, as a seeker, you will be vital against the Arcane Horrors.  Commander?”

Cullen’s amber eyes met Evie’s across the table.  They were already begging him to say yes.  “If possible, I would like you and a few mix mage-templar squadrons to accompany us.  I think it is time to test their effectiveness, especially since we will be in both open and close quarter contact.”

“Of course I can attend, but if both Cassandra and I are present, who will oversee supply operations to the Emerald Graves and the Western Approach?”  Cullen asked, knowing that smirk appearing on Evie’s face that she already thought of the answer.

“It is time for you to trust your officers, Commander.  I know Lieutenant Kestrel heads your red templar operations.  Knight-Captain Rylen oversees the main troop organization in Orlais.  Release your grip, and I believe they will serve us all well.”  Evie cooed and tilted her head mischievously.  Her suggestion raised giggles from the advisors.  “If you spend anymore nights trying to control everything, you will jump off the ramparts.”

Cullen grimaced, pinching his nose.  He hoped she did not see his dark eyes and irritable mood when she arrived from the capital.  She was right, as usual.  Cullen knew exhaustion and overwork will not help him in the long run.  Controlling military matters settled his mind after nightmares.  By handing over some responsibilities, he no longer had an excuse not to sleep and must confront his fears.  “Understood.  I know a few mix squadrons with great successes we can take with us.”

“I want to utilize them because we do not want to seem like an invading military force.”  Evie explained, rubbing her temples.  “There were already troubles at the delegation regarding our position in Orlais.  We learned enough in Ferelden to tread lightly, especially in such a fractured place.  With templars, the armies will feel reconnected to the Great Cathedral, while overlooking that they are a fighting force.  With mages, it will demonstrate our alliance and corporation with the rebellion, putting Orlesian concerns to rest.  Your presence specifically states two things:  you are a former templar who is world renowned for your abilities and military prowess.  By having you in the field, it shows we are dedicated to stopping the undead and demons.  Second, it states to both armies that if they attempt to take advantage of our relief to start hostiles again, we will not hesitate and stop them.  Peace in the empire must occur before Corypheus assumes control for Tevinter.”

“It seems Evie learned the Game quickly.”  Leliana smiled, tilting her head.  The rogue seem impressed by the Inquisitor’s plan.

“I am waist deep in that damn Orlesian Game shit storm at the moment.”  Evie rolled her eyes.  “Now that my sister showed her face, everyone in the Inquisition is at risk.”

It now made sense.  Cullen wondered when Evie and Josephine left Skyhold if Evie’s older sister, Patricia, would appear in court.  Evie’s intelligence report stated Empress Celene’s representative was Duke Laurent de Ghislain, meaning it was only a matter of time when the sisters would meet again.  Deep in Cullen’s soul, he wished he was present at the delegation to protect her.  Yet, watching Evie twirl her amber teardrop focus stone in her marked hand, he realized he already was there.  She wore the stone, remembering it was within his red lyrium body in the future.  Insistently, Cullen reached into his coat. He felt his lucky coin first, and then the amber focus stone he found in the Frostback Mountains.

So intertwined.

The commander glanced at Leliana.  Of course, the rogue stared at him with that subtle sweet grin.  She knew everything.  She knew about Maya Amell now.  He told her even though she already knew through her own sources, even with no evidence connecting him with his first love.  Cullen would never admit it, but telling someone such old painful baggage helped him heal a little.  No one else ever knew about his relationship with the now tranquil woman.  Just saying it out loud released a horrible burden from his mind.  Saying her name no longer made him want to purge.  Furthermore, if he needed someone to speak to, Leliana would willingly listen and actually keep his secret safe.  A part of his wary mind wondered if she would use his secrets against him one day, but at that moment her ice blue eyes were shimmering kindly.

The spymaster was thinking about the second part of their bridge discussion.  Once again, Cullen turned the amber stone in his coat pocket.  His eyes shifted to Evie, who continued to talk to Cassandra and Josephine about Orlesian gossip and whatnot.  Was Leliana right that Evie yearned for him as he pined for her? 

In that moment, Evie’s bright green eyes glanced at him, shimmering to light like seeing him renewed her soul.  A small smile form around the edges of her lips.  Cullen’s mind revisited their conversation in the kitchen a few months ago.  Evie’s genuine smile:  subtle, small but full of hope and joy.  Cullen only saw that smile as it disappeared with her attention elsewhere.  It was meant for him, created by him.

Maker’s breath.  It could be possible after all.

“…What scares me is that Patricia knew about the contract on Josephine’s life.”  Evie hissed, eying the shaking ambassador.  “From this point forward, all envoys and their attendants must go through a thorough security check.  The same perimeters in place to protect my life apply to Josephine as well until this is settle.  What is the assassin counter this month?”

Cullen hated this particular betting ring.  In Crestwood, the Inner Circle stumbled upon an assassin group, seeking to get a big reward for killing Evie.  After they laid dead, the comrades decided to make a betting pool on how many people the Inquisition killed protecting their Herald of Andraste per month.  Evie explained it was a funny way to alleviate an ominous situation.  Cullen never found the humor, but everyone else followed along.

“Nine.  Many nobles from the Free Marches and Nevarra who want to claim their Antivan Crow contract beat the Inquisition.”  Leliana smirked, shaking her hooded head.  Of course, the spymaster found it as a happy challenge.  “I have a friend who is eliminating them before they cross the Waking Sea.”

Cullen believed he knew who the contact was.  Maker help them all if that guy came to Skyhold.  Iron Bull will have met his sexual-conquest opponent among the servants, soldiers, and nobility.

“Damn, that damn runner won _again!_ ”  Evie snapped her fingers.  Cullen growled, causing the whole table to burst out laughing.  Evie did not chuckle as much at the joke as she used to.

“I know what we can do about the du Paraquettes.”  Josephine spoke for the first time in the meeting.  “I’ve tracked down the last members in the common line.  If they become gentry, they can annul the contract on my life.  We’ll require a noble from Val Royeaux to sponsor them, a judge to provide documents, a minister to ratify them…”

Leliana giggled, shaking her head.  “It’s so like you to take the longest course of action, even when your life is at stake.  There is a faster way, Josephine:  the original contract on your life is in the vaults of the House of Repose.  If my agents infiltrate it and destroy the original, the assassins will have no obligation to chase you.”

Josephine laid her tablet down on the table and hugged herself.  “Leliana, please.  I want no more bloodshed over a personal affair.”

“This is far past _your_ personal affair, Josephine.”  Evie added with a harsh tone.  “Now that my family knows, it expands into a large, darker situation.  We all know that the Trevelyans want control over the Inquisition.  As the future head of the house, Patricia will utilize any way to harm us, you advisors specifically.  She is going after all of you because of me.”

“We don’t know that, Inquisitor.”  Cassandra informed, patting Evie on the shoulder.  “Most of Val Royeaux may be aware of Josephine’s situation since she used to be the Ambassador of Antiva.  Patricia might have heard about it through gossip.”

“So quickly?”  Evie quizzed, biting the inside of her cheek.  “The woman is classic example of the Grand Game.  You cannot walk around _without_ assuming she is involved somehow.  She might have the sweetest, caring voice in Thedas, but it is verbal poison.”

“Yet, without her help, we would never be allowed in Orlais.”  Josephine reminded their leader.  “We are in her debt.”

“That’s where it starts.”  Evie bit her lower lip.  “It is a four-way chess game.”  Her bright green eyes met Cullen’s, showing her fear and apprehension.  “I am waiting to be flanked from all directions.”

“One thing at a time.”  Cassandra advised, rubbing Evie’s shoulder.

Evie nodded, focusing on Josephine.  “Let’s go through legal channels first.  If rising the du Paraquettes is too difficult or if my dear sister interferes, we will resort to Leliana’s operation.  In the meantime, we need to know everything about this family.  If the Inquisition sponsors them as nobles, I want to avoid raising a bunch of arseholes or Patricia supporters.  There is a reason why they fell from grace.  Leliana, start digging.  If needed, utilize our ‘mutual friend’ and see if he has any good gossip.”

“Understood, Evie.”

“As for the Exalted Plains, we will leave the day after tomorrow.”  Evie wrote herself a few notes on some nearby parchment.  “It will give Cullen time to delegate duties and prepare Scout Harding and her team to form a base in the Plains.  I’m taking the whole Inner Circle.  Each have beneficial qualities that we will need for this operation.  We will need to separate into parties if we want to understand and complete the procedures there before both armies are ruined.”

“I would suggest a battalion of Inquisition soldiers on standby at our check points if conflict escalates.”  Cullen pointed along the main route to the region.

“Okay, just disguise their purpose.  Maybe include some workers, healers, and engineers.  From the intelligence at the delegation, we will walk into a nasty plague and infrastructure mess.”  Evie suggested, putting her quill down and rubbing her temples.  “This place was already a site of a massacre seven hundred years ago.  This civil war is just weakening the Veil even more.  We don’t want to add our own troops to the people lost.”

“Of course.”  Cullen watched the woman across from him.  In that moment, he wished they were alone so he could hold her, massage the nape of her neck, and kiss her forehead.  He has done all those things in the past.  He knew they brought her hope and relaxation. 

Leliana was right.  Evie was dying under the weight of everything.  Her magic was weak around her as her eyes scanned the map and twitched between markers.  She was falling through the thin ice of everyone else’s problems and concerns.  Her body was drowning in the Inquisition’s icy depths and the world’s troubled blizzard.  She was barely gasping for breath.

Only Cullen could grab her coat collar and pull her to safety.

If the man wanted to save this majestic woman, he must reach out and save her from herself.

 

* * *

 

Evie found the only battlement in Skyhold without people loitering or patrolling.  Its crumbling condition yet to be repaired fir her current state of mind.  Almost everywhere she walked, there was someone nodding or saying ‘Inquisitor’ or ‘Your Worship’ as she passed.  Each time she heard her title, she actually missed hearing Herald of ‘Andraste,’ which reminded her that her important role was a blessing from the Maker’s Bride.  She definitely craved hearing her name on anyone’s lips.  Was Evie just too difficult to say?  Did it require more breath?  Most of all, she wanted to hear that Fereldan husky tone say ‘Eve’ and pull her away from it all.  Standing on the wall, she listened into the mountain breeze for the little Free Marcher lilt his voice adopted while in Kirkwall. 

The silver thimble spun on her index finger with each twist, failing to distract her.  Evie’s shoulders were tense, almost as hard as rocks.  Her neck muscles were stiff, barely allowing her to turn her head in either direction.  Strains of hair escaped the updo styled that way because she noticed a few chunks fell out when she bathed that morning.  Her back ached, not from a battle injury, but from trying to keep formal straight back after years of not caring about proper etiquette in the Circle.  Battle dancing became more difficult with her weakening knees and swollen ankles.  Twirling her staff was a challenge since she broke her arm.  It did not roll around her palms and through her fingers with ease anymore.

In those moments, staring out over the river valley, the mage allowed herself to ignore everything for a moment of peace.  There were duties she should be doing, but Evie wanted to escape.  She left her tower so she would not stare at the piling paperwork sitting on her desk.  Her secret library still laid in shambles.  Its novelty was now a chore than a happy escape.  Each spider web along the old tomes was just too cumbersome to bother with at the moment.  Drinking only dulled the torture for a while.  Even then, if someone saw her she would need to smile and act happy to avoid suspicion.

Darkness creeped into her vision, much like it did all those years ago.  The whispers rose up while riding back to Skyhold following the delegation.  She actually overslept that morning before the advisors meeting.  She did not dream, thank the Maker.  However, she woke up more exhausted than when she fell asleep.  Fesill nudged her out of bed with her happy cheer and anxious calls.  If Evie was allowed, she would had remained under the covers and hid for weeks.  Food was bland.  She could only swallow soup and broth.  It was ten years ago all over again.

Vengeance will not save her this time.  It was not just about her anymore.  _Everyone_ relied on her to succeed.

Suddenly, Evie was afraid of heights, glancing over the battlement stones at the endless rocky moat below.  Being high no longer reminded her of surviving, but now welcomed the terror like before.  To feel to air whoosh by her as she fell.  The endless silence that would follow her descent-

“Eve?”

Evie truly believed the mountain wind was teasing her this time.  Everyone else taunted at her expense.  The Maker did most of all.  Why would his mountains not do so too?

“Eve…”

That was his voice.  Her nails dug into the stone wall, bracing herself for disappointment.  Evie barely turned her head, trying to hide the pain in her neck.  Her eyes moved to the left, seeing the brown and black bear mantle wave in the late winter breeze.  Cullen found her.

Thank you, Maker.

“Do you need something?”  It was always something.  The Inquisition always needed something from her.

“That’s what I was going to ask you?”  His husky voice was low and deep in his chest.  It rumbled across the stones and into her soul.

“I’m fine.”  He cannot see her face.  Maybe she could hide the lie.

“I doubt that.”  Cullen groaned, walking closer to her.  With each step, she heard his piano grow.  With her deepening depression, the orchestra was quiet.  It allowed her to ignore the Fade, including her violin.  Yet, she yearned for his music, his lone piano.  It played a soft piece, gentle and sweet as if curious and playful.  Behind the major key was a minor harmony that echoed his hesitation and unsureness. 

By now, the commander was a few feet from her.  The mountain breeze shifted direction, carrying his campfire smoke, sage, and lavender scent into her nostrils.  Suddenly, breathing was easier.  The stiffness lessened.  The aches dissipated.  Her internal flame flickered alive again.  She could not look away from the candle inside her brightening and pushing the darkness back.

“It’s a nice day.”

Cullen’s observation awoke Evie from her internal stare.  “What?”

“It’s…”  His words floated away with the wind.  He took a few more steps forward until he was at her left side.  His armor squeaked with each step.  His boot clicked against the stones like a drum.  Then, his templar embossed gauntlet appeared in her hazy vision.  He held something in his grasp, laid it on the wall, and withdrew his arm.

Evie’s green eyes widen seeing the glimmering amber focus stone sitting in front of her.  It was larger than the one she found inside Cullen’s monster body.  There was no dried blood in the cracks, although it looked like it rubbed up against metal for a while now. 

Evie’s marked hand shook as she reached to touch it.  “How…?”

“In the Frostbacks, I took a walk while we camped, guiding the horses to Haven.  I passed by a cliff where something had crashed against the rocks and broke into pieces.  My boot stepped on that stone.  I glanced down.  The dawn sun shimmered through its center, illuminating a golden glow like a warming fire in the darkest, coldest night.  I picked it up, noticing it was scarred and beaten from its tumble down the cliff.  ‘That won’t do,’ I thought to myself.  I sat on a rock and slowly buffed out the jagged edges and brought its surface back to its shining, smooth beauty.”  He paused for a few moments.  Evie heard his gloved hand rub something, must likely his neck.  “It reminds me of _you_.  I carry it everywhere I go.”

Evie’s candle brightened a little more.  “So…that’s why your creature had it…?”

“I keep in my chest coat pocket…it sits beside my heart.”  A few moments passed as Evie stared at the stone in her hand, afraid to look at the man nearing her.  That hope and happiness she attempted to keep buried welled up inside her, brightening the light inside more like dwarven oil in a lamp.  He finally spoke again, taking one more step towards her.  His warmth called to her.  His arms reached for her stressed and abused body.  His heart called to her weak soul.  “I find myself thinking of you.  More than…well, all the time, really.”

Evie bit her lip as tears gathered up in her bright green eyes.  All her concerns and questions were answered then.  He did not need to be smug to finally say what was going on.  He found her alone and admitted everything that she hoped was true.

Yet, doubt still remained.  “You left the templars…after Kirkwall, and what I suspect at Kinloch…”  Evie finally turned her red face towards him.  “Do you trust mages?”  The afternoon sun shined behind him, hiding his handsome face in shadow.  All Evie could see was the twinkle in his amber eyes and his delicious cut lip.  “Could you think of me as anything more than…this?”  She referenced her entire being with both arms.

The man ran his hand through his hair, resting it on his neck.  “I could.  I mean, I do…Eve, you were right.  You were always right.  You are more than a mage or the only person who can close fade rifts.  You are…an astonishing, beautiful woman, who takes my breath away every moment you spoke or do _anything_ …I have spent so many nights thinking what I might say in this situation.”

Evie turned towards him, cupping the amber stone in her right palm.  She reached out with her marked hand, letting it hover over his chest like she did on the mountain pass after she confessed Anders killed Rian.  She listened, hearing his piano’s melody intensify, thumping fast like his heart.  “What’s stopping you…?”

Cullen sighed, squeezing his ember eyes close.  He rubbed his neck a few times again, then allowed his hand to fall away.  “You’re the Inquisitor.  We’re at war.”  Evie’s chest tightened at the sound of her title on his lips.  She nearly purged, taking a few steps back.  He noticed, stepping closer until her hand pressed against his cold chest piece.  “Most of all, I don’t deserve you.  Eve, I caused you so much pain already.  I should never look you in the eye let alone…I didn’t think this was even possible.”

Evie curled her hand around his coat hem, gripping it with all her strength.  A part of her waited to wake up.  She had this dream before.  Yet, she felt the smooth Fereldan cotton in her grasp.  She saw the fear in his flickering eyes, much like the uncertainty in hers.  Her internal candle brightened and almost beamed as life pumped back into her soul.  The darkness all but disappeared.

“And yet I’m still here.”  Her shaky, but happy, words barely whispered as the first tears fell from her shining bright green eyes.

Cullen pulled off his left glove and grasped her hand inside his own holding his mantle coat.  He squeezed tightly, showing he wondered if he was dreaming as well.  With his other hand, he touched her other arm’s bicep, while she held the amber stone between them.  “So you are…”  He curled his gloved fingers around her arm and slowly pulled her closer.    Evie obeyed.  Doubt dissipated as she knew she was alive and with _him_.  “…it seems too much to ask.”

He was breathing quickly, not from fear but anticipation.  Evie felt its warmth on her cheekbones, breathing color back into her paling skin.  Every inch closer, the woman tilted her head up to keep her shimmering eyes locked on his golden halos.  Like so many times before, they were just inches away.  The space so large, yet so close.  A simple turn, a little more tug against his coat or her arm.  The amber soul in her hand pressed between them like her teardrop pendant between her breasts.  Just a little more, and their lips would marry finally after so long.

His last breath before his lips will meet, Cullen spoke once more.  “But I want to-“

“Commander!”

All it took was a gust of wind to blow out the bright candle.  Smoke rose from the wick.  Darkness consumed Evie again.  Cullen saw it happen, his eyes crying out to her to just wait.  He would handle it all.  It did not matter.  The amber stone slipped from Evie’s hand, crashing into three pieces at their feet.  Her fingers loosen against his coat, falling to her side.  The woman waited for the commander to disappear like her flame, her dreams.  Her genuine smile never could exist.

The commander pivoted on his right boot, growling “What?!”

“Sister Leliana’s report on the Exalted Plains fortifications.”  The runner’s voice sounded familiar to Evie as she took two step back, stumbling into the battlement wall.  Cullen approached the man with both fists ready.  The man who just admitted his personal emotions just a few moments ago no longer present, replaced by a rabid mabari willing to slaughter everything in his path.  The commanding, terrifying templar overwhelmed his behavior as his shoulders arched over and his facial muscles strained.  “You wanted it delivered ‘without delay.’  I waited beside her until it was ready.  I came as soon as possible.  I saw you here from her Rookery, so-“

“Leave.  Now.”  That voice was not Cullen.  It was that wild mabari attacking people and animals like in the Hinterlands.

“…or…to your office…?”

The human mabari said nothing as the runner stumbled backwards, fell on his behind, and scurried away from the approaching beast.  The lumbering beast did not turn around immediately.  He allowed his hands to relax and his authority persona to fall away.  Every moment without seeing _Cullen_ allowed the candle’s smoke to dissipate.  Its heat dashed away in the mountain winds

“There will always be someone…something.”  Her voice tremored, barely admitting sound.  “They always stare and tease.  Nothing is just mine…ours anymore.”  A few more tears fell from her eyes.  “They will always find me…you.”

“Eve…”  His low voice was rough and broken.  It took all his strength to say her name.

“Samson haunts you like your red monster burned in my memory.  Patricia will use you…torture you just to see me shatter.  The Trevelyans will eliminate you, assassinate you because you support me…give me strength.”

“Eve, don’t…please.”

“I’m your leader…your commanding officer.  If I become a monster, you will follow my lead until it was too late.”

“That’s not-“

“-I am the Herald of Andraste, the great _Inquisitor_ who controls the Veil.  They all stare at me and bow.  They ask for the impossible, and I deliver each time without requesting anything in return.  What lays inside this body does not matter.  All they want is a savior, proof that Maker loves them…Everyone just looks at…”  Evie’s darkening eyes lowered to her left hand.  “You were right, Commander.  I am just the Anchor after all.”

Cullen twirled around.  “That is not true!  You-  T-That short-tempered, sassy fire dancer is who matters!  I know her, and she is what I fight for, think about every waking moment!  Do not allow this to swallow you whole, Eve!”  In his begging amber eyes, tears formed accenting the dark circles and crow’s feet from years of pain and torment.

Evie shook her head, grasping her brittle hair.  “You and I both know…the fire in these eyes…is now ash.”

Cullen gritted his teeth.  “I don’t believe that.  I refuse to.  I will always stand by you.  I will not leave you.  Everyone you cared about before has been ripped from you, but not I.  You are no longer alone, Eve.  You have me!  I will stand here at your side until the end, not matter what happens.  I won’t let you drown!”

The Inquisitor took over the weak woman’s body, turning away from the man who deserved anyone but the shell standing there.  Her back stood straight.  The neck cracked with little difficulty.  The voice was stern and strong.  However, the Anchor dulled, matching the blackness in the body’s eyes.  “You stand there in vain, Ser.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> .  
> .  
> ...I'll be hiding under my desk now.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> In all fairness, I thought the first time that scene occurred that Cullen would run away like he did in Origins. My character Evie paced back and forth for about ten minutes as I debated on starting the romance, scared of the outcome. I already was crying, waiting for the fall, especially following the mage prop line. Furthermore, I think we would all agree Evie would never make the first move. She mistrusts every thought she has, so Cullen had to step up. Just hang on everyone. I promise you, it will be worth it!
> 
> [1] From War Table Missions “Diverting Soldiers in the Frostbacks” and “Thanks from a Chantry Sister.”


	20. Battlefields

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING!  
> Description of blood, gore, and whatnot. Psychological trauma and mental instability.
> 
> Thank you everyone for the well wishes. I knew I pushed myself too hard, but I couldn't help it. I actually felt great there for awhile, but it bit me back in the end. Just FYI, might only have this chapter this week so I'm not pressing myself too much again. I am dying to write, but I have to pace myself! Ugh! The next section is longer than the last two, which is making me anxious, but it is soooo good! I can't wait for you all to read it!
> 
> I wish I could warn you all when something might not be posted and whatnot, but I am not much into social media. I have a tumblr, but I mainly lurk on there. I'll figure something out.
> 
> Chapter Song: "Running Up That Hill" by Placebo
> 
> Just FYI: I purposely did not use Evie's name throughout this chapter. She is the Inquisitor or Trevelyan now to signify that the leadership has taken over her personality. I think I was clear about that in the chapter, but just wanted to make sure. In the end, I wasn't exactly happy with how it turned out, but I think that's because things are shit. The Exalted Plains is just a crappy place in general. Let me know what you think with those comments and kudos! I love reading/replying to you all!

The stench of burning fresh and decay rose from the fire pit where the bodies of Empress Celene’s troops were used for sacrificial purposes on the western ramparts.  It was the same identifiers as the trench’s other side and the Grand Duke Gaspard’s western fortifications across the battlefield.  Four horrific pillars built from the dead’s skulls defined the pit’s corners, binding dark magical energy so the dead could arise and terrorize the living.  Whoever created these blood magic posts summoned Arcane Horrors to fend off any persons who attempted to destroy the magic.

Inquisitor Trevelyan stood on the edge of the fire pit, staring at her triumph.  The Anchor glowed and pulsed, while the sky cleared and brought sunshine to the dark plains.  In the distance, Blackwall sounded the battle horns to call staggering troop members to return to the fortifications.  Once again, for the second week, the Inquisition ended chaos in the Exalted Plains.

Trevelyan knew regaining control would be slow, but a week a rampart would not do.  There were at least two more trench locations and three forts to relieve.  Both armies were scattered like bread crumbles across the flat plains.  No civilians have been found, thought dead by the grand duke’s Corporal Rosselin.  He was the only standing commanding officer for the army, barely twenty and ordering young boys around, who looked broken and lost.  The empress’ fortifications were worse.  There was no main commander.  The only capable chevalier they found was slowing dying following an undead invasion.  To bring stability to that location, the Inquisitor designated Ser Lysette as a liaison until the Inquisition contacted Commander Jehan, stationed in Citadelle du Corbeau, over a few leagues away and across the blooded and polluted river.

The Maker did not exist here.

If Corypheus wanted to be a god, all he would have to do is touch the thin Veil here and pass through.  All four mages in the Inner Circle sensed its brittle nature.  Drawing willpower and strength from the Fade took little effort.  Demons pressed on the other side, grasping at the mages’ pull to possess them.  The mages with the mix templar-mage squadrons were specially selected for their years fighting demons and their abilities to avoid possession.  Even then, it still worried the Inquisitor that they might have to cut down their own people to avoid another disaster.

An Inquisition scout approached from behind, breaking Trevelyan’s review of their triumph.  She recognized the scout as a runner sent to be a liaison between Solas’ party to the main Inquisition force.  The apostate led a small party containing Varric and a few city elf troops to make contact with a wandering Dalish clan in the area.  The apostate was reluctant at first to be in charge of the envoy, but the Inquisitor refused to hear excuses.  She trusted him.  He knew how to speak Elven.  He understood the culture.  This was the first time the Inquisition encountered the clans.  Like during the Blight, if they wanted to defeat Coypheus, they needed their support.  Furthermore, the further they travelled into the Dales, the more they would encounter elven artifacts and sites.  Trevelyan wanted to respect their potential allies.  No mistakes could be made.  The Chantry and the Orlesians already damaged elven relations already.

“Solas reporting in, your Worship.”  The scout nodded, saluting and bowed his head to his leader.

“Report.”  She barely turned her head.  Her attention remained on the flames pouring out of the plague pits.

“Initial contact with Dalish has occurred, but not the main clan.  Two hunters were stranded on the main road heading towards elven ruins.  Their aravel broke down.  Demons attack as soon as we arrived.  We eradicated them with little injury.  The location of the main clan camp has been found.  The party plans to venture there at first light tomorrow, your Worship.”  The scout bowed and saluted.

“Good.”  The Inquisition stated with a strong tone.  “They are to discover the Keeper’s name and if they require assistance.  The Inquisition must respect the Dalish if we wish to venture farther into the Dales.  The Orlesians may have denied them this land, but I will not trample on their graves.”

“Understood, your Worship.”  The scout nodded.  “One last request from Apostate Solas.  He has narrowed the location of his ‘friend’ along the river.  It is not far from the Dalish encampment.  He requests your assistance to free the spirit.”

Trevelyan sighed, rolling her dull green eyes.  “As I have stated before, not until the Orlesian armies are secure.  I need every templar and mage currently.  I will uphold my vow to him, but will not be pushed to act before the Inquisition is ready.  Please remind him of that.  If he ventures himself or pushes again, consider him no longer welcomed in my forces.”

The scout stared at the leader, stunned and confused.  “Y-yes, your Worship.”

“Eat and catch your breath before returning.”  The Inquisitor advised, returning to staring at the flames again.  Her hand lifted again, feeling the heat rise from the inferno.  With a simple twitch, the fire pit exploded with light and grew in intensity.  The quicker the dead were sent to the Maker, the less blood magic.  “You are dismissed.”

“Y-yes, your Worship.”  The scout saluted, and turned away towards the nearest Inquisition camp.

There was no word from Cassandra’s party north of their position.  She, Dorian, Cole, and the Iron Bull traveled up the main highway towards the nearby town to investigate the next fortresses and ramparts.  Behind them, the commander established supply lines and relief locations if the group encountered refugees and scattered soldiers. 

From their last check-in, Cassandra’s party found no one alive, only dead soldiers carrying rotting supplies believed for Citadelle du Corbeau.  Their major adversary was the black wolves with glowing green and red eyes, reminding Trevelyan of the wolf pack controlled by a demon in the Hinterlands.  Apparently the same occurred here, but they had not found the den yet.  Already, herds of halla laid dead from their attacks.  The wolves were strong beasts that had fed on deer and human flesh for months during hostilities, craving more to keep their rage going.  The few packs her team met while taking the ramparts were extremely strong, surviving even her fade rifts.

It only meant the Inquisitor must get stronger.  If she could not conquer mind-controlled rabid animals, Thedas would not survive against the ancient magister.  Now that her weak side was dead and buried, Trevelyan could expand her power and influence.  She would be the leader and beacon the world required-

-She heard his armor first.  He tended to it nightly, but kept cackling with each step up the wooden ramparts and towards her.  Her eyes darkened and prepared for his speech, his growl.

“Inquisitor.”  The commander announced himself several feet behind her.  “The sun is setting and the men are worn out from the day.  I suggest withdrawing to the nearest camp until the morning.”

“How many injured?”  Her voice was direct and stiff, echoing off the nearby rock faces.

“Ten today.  Minor wounds.  One fatality.”  He reported as stern as her.  “Healers are attending to them now.  Word has already been sent to base camp to notify Skyhold to claim the fallen’s body.”

“How many does that make?”

“Seven in the last two weeks.”  His voice softened, demonstrating his own feelings towards the lost men.

“Seven too many, Commander.”  Trevelyan hissed.  “Please detail how each soldier passed to learn from their deaths.  We must investigate how and why they died, and prepare to avoid it from happening again.”

“Troops die no matter what we do, Eve-“

He used that name.  That person no longer existed.  She was weak and broken.  The Inquisitor could not be pitiful and shattered.  “-That’s enough, Commander.  Pull everyone back to camp.  Support and escort the wounded until they are safe.  I will remain until everyone has returned.”

“Eve, you cannot do this on your-“

“-That is an order!”  Trevelyan huffed, slamming her staff into the ground.  She did not turn towards him.  She did not need to as her magic gathered around her.

A few moments passed.  “Understood.”

 

* * *

 

**Excerpts from Inquisitor Evelyn Trevelyan’s Journal, found after the events of the Exalted Plains:**

_Day 18:_

_Cassandra’s party has finally reported back to the main force.  Apparently, they took it on themselves to investigate Ville Montevelan and Riverside Garrison.  They were besieged at the main civilian town for two days because of a Revenant demon controlling the Ville’s fade rift.  I quickly reminded my second that I am the only one who can close fade rifts.  Her lack of communication placed her party at risk and almost led me to send a search party to know their location.  The seeker went to argue with me, but I sent her back to the basecamp.  I ordered the commander, a mix squadron, Vivienne, Dorian, Blackwall, and Sera to travel with me to close the rifts.  Cassandra, Cole, and Iron Bull were to wait for Solas’ party to return from the Dalish camp._

_Day 23:_

_The two rifts at Ville Montevelan and Riverside Garrison are closed.  By the time we reached the grand duke’s fortification, only a handful of soldiers remained.  A large fade rift formed under the fortress in some elven ruins, slowly killing the trapped army over a period of weeks.  If the seeker just followed my instructions, less men would have died.  Of those still alive, most were wounded.  The following healers at the newly established supply checkpoints provided relief.  Still three regulars died.  Inquisition soldiers brought food and clean water.  Until we reach Fort Revasan where Grand Duke Gaspard’s marshal is held up with the main force, there is little that can be done for these people._

_Ville Montevelan is a deserted, destitute town.  There is not a single untouched building or house not scarred by the civil war.  Almost even roof is caved in.  Among the rumble, we discovered a dead platoon of Freeman deserters eaten by demons pouring out of the rift.  From their positions, they were caught unaware and died quickly.  Only skeletons of civilians were found.  The remaining troops at the garrison stated most civilians travelled over the bridge and seek shelter in the Citadelle du Corbeau.  Hopefully, the people still live.  The undead can be seen wandering around like cattle on those battlements._

_The bridge is destroyed.  I ordered the commander to send for the engineers and workers waiting at the last checkpoint before the Dales to rebuild.  I do not want to relieve Fort Revasan without immediately assisting the Citadelle afterwards.  He cautioned not to press the troops and the Inner Circle.  He stated morale was low and no one has had a full day of rest since we arrived.  I told him I would note his concern, but I expect the same dedication as I expect from myself.  He tried to remind me that I am pushing myself.  Nonsense.  He is just surprised I have not broken down and cried.  Thank goodness that weakness is gone in me.  I know what I must do.  I must keep moving forward.  I am Andraste’s fire.  I will burn my foes.  I am the Inquisitor. The light walking in the darkness unafraid._

_Day 26:_

_Encountered two sets of Venatori mages and zealots, one at a river camp and the other by a rockslide blocking some elven ruins.  I requested Dorian to join my group. The Tevinter stated these were part of the three “old acquaintances” he warned about in Skyhold.  They were quickly decapitated by our templars, surprised by having their spells dispelled as soon as they casted.  The escaped prisoners were not present.  Dorian suggested having Cassandra join us while the commander oversaw building the bridge and clearing the rockslide.  I declined.  My cousin, Ser Malcom, and the squadron of seasoned mages and templars were enough.  My second showed she could not uphold orders in the field and the commander was better overseeing the workers.  After a shouting match, I sent Dorian back to the nearest basecamp.  His services were no longer required._

_Even after two warnings, I grew tired of Vivienne and Sera’s bickering.   They continued to prank one another.  I hollered for a bell, stating this was not a place of games and stupid quips.  This was a battlefield.  The Veil was thin.  People were dead_ everywhere! _Sera should respect who she is and what her people experienced on the Plains.  I do not care she does not connect with the Dalish.  It is goddamn respect._

 _Vivienne was acting like her normal bitchy self, stopping Sera’s pranks before they impacted her.  Yet, when she released those six legged snake worms in camp, I put my foot down.  I waved at the pits of plague men and told her that this is what magic does when out of control.  She always claims that the Circles were the best places to control our gifts, yet it was okay for her to cast with no consequences.  I quickly assigned templars around her, telling her that was their role, to_ watch _malcontents.  She seemed shocked by the gesture.  I warned if she had a problem, she had every right to state her cause in front of me at judgement.  Furthermore, I advised her to tell my sister that was well.  There will be a day the first enchanter will make a mistake, and I will have both her and Patricia in chains._

_Earlier this evening, Sera came to my tent with a bottle of liquor, saying she found it in Ville Montevelan.  I took the bottle and threw it in a nearby campfire.  I informed her I no longer participated in drink.  Once I return to Skyhold, I will destroy that collection my former self thought was a good idea.  Alcohol dulls the senses._

_The mark is not supplying me with the proper amount of mana I need to cast.  It is taking more focus for me to summon fade rifts.  My spells are not as strong as I know.  I barely performed a firestorm during the skirmish against the black wolves.  Once I meet Solas, I must discuss this with the apostate._

_Day 30:_

_Finally!  The bridge is complete!  I was about to send my entire party to assist the commander.  Now that I can access the Citadelle, I can save the forts.  It seems he cannot follow a single order.  While exploring, since I could not the needed tasks, I discovered oculara near the forest and on the rock faces.  I shouted with him for a bell that I wanted all those hideous things destroyed, as I ordered months ago.  He swore up and down that the advisors and I agreed to use the existing to uncover what the Venatori were doing, while giving the incomplete a proper funeral.  I rolled my eyes, saying that is so disrespecting.  Of course he would suggest that.  He is a templar!  He branded mages for fun!  I am considering having him begin lyrium.  His troops are lacking.  They struggle with their slow stamina and complain constantly.  They look to me more than him.  It is something to evaluate once I return to Skyhold._

_The seeker sent a missive, sharing that the capital wishes to contact their forts.  I told her they must wait.  The operation is taking longer than I anticipated.  No matter how many times I review my notes and requests, I cannot see my fallacy.  This means I am doing everything correctly.  It is my advisors and my Inner Circle limiting us._

_By now, Solas’ party has reached our outpost in Ville Montevelan.  He gave me a full report of his discussion with the Dalish.  I am not pleased.  The keeper only spoke with them for a few moments, refusing to corporate.  The party did discover several needed items and requests from willing clan members._

_Two of the elves’ requests are dead ends.  They believed a sacred halla wanders the plains and can be vital to their survival.  I saw such a creature dead after a black wolf attack two weeks ago.  The hide was beyond use, so I left it there, burning all the bodies.  The other request regarded a missing hedge mage who ran away when the keeper selected another as his first.  The body was charred and ash.  We killed the demon he summoned.  Among the artifacts I collected was notes about a sacred temple in the woods beyond the Dalish camp.  Once the Orlesian situation is cleared, I will turn attention towards the ruins.   Maybe getting these artifacts and returning them to the clan will make up with the hopeless requests._

_Solas does not know why the mark is not as strong.  He asked about my state of mind.  Does he think I am unstable?  Nonsense.  I am saner now than my entire life.  He questioned my connection to the Fade, my “orchestra.”  He noticed I do not dance while casting anymore.  I said it was a silly excuse to hide fear.   Fragments left of a weak person.  I am a battlemage, not a courtier or silly child.  It must be this place._

_I am Andraste’s fire.  I will burn my foes.  I am the Inquisitor.  The light walking in the darkness unafraid._

_Day 34:_

_We are too slow!  This is unacceptable!  Once I return to Skyhold, I will have a stern discussion with my advisors.  They are pathetic!  I am the Herald of Andraste!  They elected me their Inquisitor.  They are to support me, and yet they leave me with no supplies and support.  The commander remarked the Freeman were attacking our supply lines down the main roads, like they did with the Imperial armies.  I just hear excuses.  Josephine keeps sending concerned letters about her wellbeing as well as demands from Val Royeaux.  Maybe we should just abandon this place and match across the empire anyways.  Like the Orlesians could follow me with their broken forces._

_Fort Revasan has been captured.  The marshal requires the Eastern Ramparts.  Both Inquisition soldiers and scouts inform me that this is the Freeman of the Dales’ base in the region.  Once the Citadelle du Corbeau is cleared, I will take all the forces and destroy these monsters.  It is clear this is Corypheus’ doing.  Notes and missives found on the freemen’s bodies state they are following an Orlesian soldier named Gordian.  I have sent all information back to Leliana to investigate, if she can do her damn job._

_I am Andraste’s fire.  I will burn my foes.  I am the Inquisitor.  The light walking in the darkness unafraid._

_Day 39:_

_After almost a month and a half, both imperial armies have been rescued.  The total lost Inquisition members is forty-five, most in the last two weeks when supplies and the plague claimed those wounded.  Over one hundred wounded, with over half no longer able to fight.  Of all lost were fourteen templars and seventeen mages, four lost to possession despite being harrowed mages._

_The Maker does not exist here.  I believe He only exists because I am His Herald.  He and His Bride gave me this weak boon that barely closes fade rifts anymore._

_We found the civilians.  There were all dead outside the Citadelle du Corbeau interior gates.   Men, women, and children lying dead in the early spring sun with the troops doing nothing.  Commander Jehan’s excuse was that someone activated ancient elven booty traps to stop the undead, killing everyone.  Solas frantically explained he had seen such traps in the Fade right as I was about to stab the woman with my staff blade.  The commander stopped me before I arrested her for the massacre.  Solas defended this worthless animal, saying most humans would not understand what they were doing until it was too late.  The elves counted on that lack of hindsight, especially in the Dales.  I am still ordering Josephine to bring the massacres details to the Imperial Court, if the frightened little ambassador can even do that._

_Now, to end this mess.  I ordered all Inquisition members to three basecamps near the Eastern Ramparts.  It has taken too long to reach this moment._

_Day 43:_

_I am Andraste’s fire.  I will burn my foes.  I am the Inquisitor.  The light walking in the darkness unafraid._

_I am Andraste’s fire.  I will burn my foes.  I am the Inquisitor.  The light walking in the darkness unafraid._

_I am Andraste’s fire.  I will burn my foes.  I am the Inquisitor.  The light walking in the darkness unafraid._

_I am Andraste’s fire.  I will burn my foes.  I am the Inquisitor.  The light walking in the darkness unafraid…._

_Day 46:_

_I might have the templars eradicate Cole.  If he whispers that ‘The Candle is gone’ again, I will personal run him through.  Vivienne is protecting him from me.  They deserve one another._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is perfectly okay to hate me right now. I almost flipped my computer writing these last chapters. 
> 
> At the same time, bwahahahahah!
> 
> You'll keep coming back. I know you will...please? Pretty please? :(


	21. Push

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: description of battle and gore
> 
> Chapter Song: "Last to Fall" by Starset
> 
> Remember to keep checking Spotify. I update the song lists with each posting.
> 
> This chapter's song really fits Cullen, not just Evie and Cullen but his general role in the game. Never stopping, waiting patiently, continuing to fight even when it is hopeless...Maker's breath, that man is a true gift. :)
> 
> Only one chapter next week, Everyone. I will post it on Friday. I hope this chapter can suffice you until then. :)

Everyone was battered and bruised.  There were few remaining able-bodied soldiers when Cullen followed the Inquisitor into the Eastern Rampart’s front gate.  The Emerald Graves Freeman broke Inquisition supply lines.  Everyone still standing were on half rations.  Lyrium was low for both the mages and templars.  Communication with Skyhold only occurred by raven, but even then it was slow and unproductive.

Cullen glanced around at the Inner Circle.  It was the first time he saw Cassandra in a month.  The Inquisitor purposely assigned her away from the battlefields because the seeker questioned her judgement.  She was not the only one now.  Cullen started challenging her few weeks ago and was immediately sent on foolish errands building a temporary bridge over the river and overseeing clearing a rock slide blocking their ability to reach a fade rift.  The mage overreacted when the bridge was not complete to reach the Citadelle du Corbeau, threatening the exhausted workers and engineers.  There were logical explanations for the slow pace, primarily was the lack of rest and preparation.  She expected everything to be done immediately, stating if she can do it, everyone else could too.

The Inquisitor did not realize she could not do it either.

Solas was the first to tell the commander that the Anchor was not responding well.  Apparently, their leader approached him and stated it was not providing her with mana or misfiring when opening and closing rifts.  When he asked her basic questions, she remarked they were stupid and that she was perfectly sane.  He asked about her dancing and music.  She no longer pranced around the battlefield like a fairy.  Now, she just shouted and forced everything to happen.  The Inquisitor stated those abilities were fragments of a _long_ gone weak person.  She was the Herald of Andraste.  Weakness held her back.

Cullen knew this would happen.

Everyone pushed the woman.  He warned the advisors at the very beginning when they proposed she be elected Inquisitor.  They believed by confessing their misunderstandings and hesitations, it would change everything.  They all thought was that she opening up would allow her to distribute the position’s weight.

Instead, it shattered an already broken person.

Evie’s walls crumbled when sitting beside the commander, confessing about what happened to her at the Circle and her brothers’ death like a waterfall of sorrow and anguish.  Cullen knew it was just the beginning of her internal agony.  It was like a dam slowly cracking, while the large lake it contained seeped through and slowly eroded the mortar keeping the stones in place.  Yet, the advisors and the Inner Circle placed Qunari explosives inside the fissures and blew it to pieces.  Instead of healthily releasing the pain behind it, it flooded the valley villages below.  What remained was a shell of who they grew to admire and care about.

That shell became Evie’s definition of what _they_ thought the Inquisitor would be.  This mage’s beliefs reflected everything wrong with everyone around her:  she adopted Cassandra’s demanding presence, narrow mind, and pressuring pace. Josephine’s eloquent speech seeped through her stern voice, but the Herald unrelenting pursued winning every argument.  Leliana’s coldness and mysterious stare echoed in the Inquisitor’s inability to worry about other’s welfare and sacrifice anyone to achieve their goals.  Most of all, this shell absorbed Cullen’s expectations of himself even when he slowly lost the ability to be a templar, a mage.

This is why _Evie_ was so vital to the Inquisition.  She fought Cassandra’s temper with her own and viewed and explained the larger picture to her second.  The witty woman was blunt and pushed etiquette to the side to put Josephine back in her place.  The drunk reminded Leliana that these were people, not objects.  People viewed the mage as a thing her whole life and reminded the rogue _people_ matter, not the end result.  Lastly, Evie showed Cullen that even though he was growing weak, his internal battle with lyrium withdraw mattered.  Many former templars around him idolized him as a role model.  She stood by him when others turned away.  She made him stronger.

They all killed that beautiful person.

Evie cannot be lost, right?  There must be at least the cold candle remaining in all that darkness.  The Inner Circle spoke in hush whispers on how they would get her back, but they concluded the same thing as Cullen:  they did not know how.  Someone, _he_ had to reignite her internal light.  Cullen must find the spark and the wick.  Out of all these people who said they cared for her, he was the most capable of reaching the person lying inside again.

First, the commander had to challenge this Herald of Andraste.  Evie once asked him if he would recognize if she was a monster.  He told her he could, and he was right.  Their “great” leader was a monster.  This mage carried darkness around her.  On the outside, she as getting things done, but she did not care _how_ it occurred.  On one occasion, Cullen witnessed Meredith in her dull green eyes, barking orders and sounding so irrational.  The former templar learned from his former knight-commander.  He might have acted too late to save Meredith, but damn it, he could reach and rescue Evie from herself.

After a first few weeks, the troops noticed the shift.  The Inquisitor no longer sat with them, told stories, and shared her special liquor collection around the campfire.  She woke them at all hours of day and night to run drills or prepare for the next fade rift.  Many troops approached the commander that they did not like her anymore.  They felt the Maker abandoned them.

The Inner Circle knew there was a change.  However, they never questioned if they played a role.  Cullen overheard one discussion at basecamp last night about how happy and cheerful she acted at the dragon slaying party.  She drank the most of Iron Bull’s vinegar.  Of course, she hated their teasing for kicking Cullen in the groin.  They only meant to have some fun.  They would not dare to do that now. 

Cullen assumed it was a false face.  None of them _knew_ Evie.  Since she survived Haven, they were just happy she told them aspects about herself and her past.  They never thought about how much it took her to admit such secrets.  She trusted them, and they stomped over her like a druffalo stampede. 

Evie’s words on the battlements started to make sense then:  _“There will always be someone…something.  They always stare and tease.  Nothing is just mine…ours anymore.”_   Knowing Evie’s feelings towards him now, Cullen determined the sparring match was supposed to be a way to test the waters.  She wore that revealing outfit.  She provoked him to attack and lung, getting closer to her with each strike.  She meant to share a personal moment with him that might give her the courage to say how she felt.  Skyhold found her.  They put Evie under a lens and watched her movements.  The groin kick was a reaction to that damn runner jumping in the ring.  They just teased her, pushed her farther towards the brink. 

No one knew about the commander’s declaration on the ramparts all those weeks ago.  He never said anything, angrier with all of them than to share the cause of her changing personality.  Evie never appeared since that day.  In short exchanges, the comrades asked if something happened complete oblivious to their role.  Cullen gave them all the same piercing stare of disappointment and disgust.  Her eyes on the battlement that day studied the ground below like it encouraged her to leap, kill herself than live with all the mounting pressure.  She shook in fear.  She fought the urge constantly like someone who faced such a decision in the past.  Cullen nearly pulled her back from it all.  They were so close.  His lips to hers in the most anticipated moment of either one’s lives-

-That damn messenger.

If Cullen was not about to enter combat against crazed deserters, he would race back to Skyhold and rip that boy to shreds.  The same runner who stole their moment in the training arena ripped the last opportunity to keep Evie was disappearing.  If any of them survived this battle, that messenger will die a horrible, long death.

“We must do something.” Cassandra muttered beside him in a low stern tone.  “She is out of control.”  The seeker’s declaration pulled him back to the present.  Cullen nearly yelled they all did enough.  Instead, he said nothing.  He half expected the Inquisitor to turn around and set the seeker on fire, yet she lacked the ability to cast the simplest spell. 

The commander’s weathered troops containing the remaining mages and templars lined in formation behind him, awaiting orders.  Iron Bull and Blackwall stood in front of the leader blocking and beating the first wave for Freemen archers, warriors, and rogues running out of the ramparts’ door and blockages.  The Inquisitor rose her marked hand and hollered, “For the Maker and Thedas!”

Instantly, the commander knew the mage could not gather her magic.  There were no embers around her head and body.  What appeared at random moments was ash and soot, dead and burnt like her soul.  Her first cast was weak, resorting her to use her staff as a focal point.  Mages only did that at the end of a fight once they casted everything they knew, their mana was dry, and no more lyrium hung on their potion belts.  No, the Inquisitor began this battle in her worst condition.  The commander might have never fought beside her before, but he knew Evie was more powerful than the mage before him.  Just in the short battles in Haven guarding the trebuchets, she casted twice as fast and with more intensity than now.

Luckily, the leader could still fade step to escape swords and dodge arrows, but relied on the other mages and Blackwall to cast barriers and protect her flanks.  Instead of casting, she used her staff blade to cut her foes and clubbed others who stood out of reach.  Cassandra was positioned as far away from the Inquisitor as permitted.  If the seeker dared to enter her space, she would be arrested for insubordination.  In this battle, the Inquisitor was more likely to die than win.  It was Cullen duty to protect her.  He might be disgusted with what the leader had become, but he knew Evie lived in that shell. 

Cullen’s body was in autopilot while they battled in the trenches.  He told his men to follow and cover their flanks.  In open spaces they formed shield walls around the mages so they lob spells at the rampaging deserters as they approached.  The commander told them all every night he was proud of them.  Templars and mages worked as a strong team.  He promised all of them that once the Freeman were destroyed in the Exalted Plains, rest and food awaited them. 

That was what the Fereldan kept telling himself at least.  He slept when possible, falling to exhaustion on his bedroll.  He did not mind the nightmares because reality was just as bad.  He grew accustomed to the migraines, fighting to keep thoughts to avoid abuse inflicted upon his men for delays or loss of life.  No matter what the Inquisitor said, _he_ was honored to serve with them.  It gave them little relief.  They needed to hear such words from Evie, their divine leader.

The Inner Circle handled the close quarter attacks.  The wooden walls and mounds of dirt were difficult to form proper rank and files.  Templar dispels disrupted mage casting.  The units waited until the Inner Circle rogues and warriors cleared the tight areas.  Iron Bull barely fit into the areas.  His greataxe caught on the lumber and shattered supports a few times.  It helped once, burying the deserters under rock and dirt.  One warrior and one mage teamed together in front.  Vivienne, Solas, and Dorian would cast barriers over Cassandra, Cullen, and Blackwall.  The warriors would shield bash and knock over their opponents, slicing their throats or stabbing the enemies’ chests.  Every so often, Cullen glanced forward and saw the Inquisitor buzzing around, flanking with the rogues with her staff.  Sera threw her jar of bees along with Varric’s Antivan fire, creating a burning hive of insects raining across the trenches, forcing the Freemen back.

The grand finale for the Exalt Plains came before Cullen realized it.  The Inner Circle stood beside a dead tree with hanging corpses, traitors and prisoners left to rot in the sun.  There was one last plague pit protected by an Arcane Horror, a dozen Freeman, and a powerful mage.  The deserters stood surrounded by tall wooden fortifications, stone walls, and a crumbling tower.  They were forced to respond to the approaching Inquisition forces if they wished to survive.

The mage must be Gordian, the leader of this branch of the Freeman of the Dales.  He looked Orlesian, but there was an aura around him that reminded Cullen of all the Venatori they encountered throughout the region.  He wore bright white, barely stained with blood.  His mask covered his whole face to hide his potential fear.  He drank several bottles of lyrium to boost his magic.  The templars were too far back in the tight trenches to silence him.

“This is for Corypheus!  You will die, False Herald!”  Gordian hollered, slamming his staff into the ground.  Suddenly a dozen ice mines exploded in front of them.  Dorian, Vivienne, and Solas barely had enough time to cast barrier before spikes erupted into everyone’s faces. 

The Inquisitor screamed, waving her staff in the air.  “I am the Maker’s Herald of Andraste!  You shall pay the highest price for supporting that ancient darkspawn!”  She thrusted her marked hand in the air.  Sparks spit from the mark, but nothing happened.  The mage grabbed her wrist and stared at the mark.  “A fade rift, you worthless Anchor!”

The Inner Circle lunged forward, engaging the dozen freemen.  The Arcane Horror kept teleporting throughout the area, drawing power from the plague pit and spitting poison at the comrades.  Sera was struck first in the shoulder with a deserter’s arrow.  She dropped her bow in pain, forcing to drop into stealth and hurry away.  To the commander’s right, Bianca the Crossbow kept checking without releasing a bolt.  Varric glanced at his bolt quiver.  He was out of ammunition. 

Iron Bull was overwhelmed from behind, having two Freemen hanging off his horns like ornaments.  He pivoted his whole body and raged in to a stampede towards the falling tower.  He impaled both soldiers against the wall with the strike, but destabilized the tower.  It started to collapse, forcing the brute to tumble away, knocked unconscious by falling debris.

Cassandra and Vivienne tagged team the Arcane Horror, while Solas and Dorian approached the pit.  The magic barrier was the strongest the group had encountered in the Exalted Plains.  Cullen determined the Arcane Horror, the barrier, and Gordian were interconnected.  If the Inner Circle took down the crazed mage, they could complete the other tasks easily.

Right as Cullen called for a unified attack, Blackwall was thrown against the dead tree like a ragdoll by the enemy leader’s telekinetic spell.  Blood trickled from under the warden’s helmet as his body laid still.  Gordian spellbound fade stepped right in front of the commander and the yelling Inquisitor.  They were separated from everyone else on the battlefield.

Gordian stared at Cullen.  His attention focused on the unstable Herald behind him.  The crazed Corypheus loyalist laughed, casting an ice wall at the Herald while she screamed at her left marked hand.  Cullen gathered all the stamina and lyrium remaining in his body, dispelling the spell enough to lessen the blow.  The ice was just a foot in front of the mage when he grasped her waist and block the remaining spell with his old templar shield, the same loyal shield since Kinloch Hold.  He never left without it fastened to his back.  The Inquisitor smacked his plate mail cuirass, demanding release her until she saw the frost and ice build around the shield’s edges.

“Cullen!”

The commander nearly fell over hearing his name on her lips.  Through the last six weeks, it was always ‘Commander Rutherford’ or ‘the Commander.’  Yet, when Cullen glanced down at the woman in his sword arm, he saw a hint of green shimmer staring at him, panicking that he was injured.  Out of nowhere, the mage casted a barrier over him and a warming spell to melt the ice.

“He’s dead!”  Evie hissed, the fire in her eyes intensifying as the mark sparked to life.  Ember and flames exploded around her as huge wave of magic and mana overcame Cullen’s senses.   She fade stepped under his arm and thrusted her marked hand into the air again over her Inner Circle.  “Eat Fade, you shit stain!”

A fade rift activated above everyone.  Somehow it created barriers over the Inner Circle, while ripping mana and stamina from the enemies.  With Evie’s right hand, balls of fire appeared, creating a firestorm over everyone’s head.  Gordian’s mask flew off his face as his skin turned to ash and the Fade’s pull carried the remains into the rift.  His Orlesian robes and silly mask tore to shreds.  His arms and legs were ripped from his body.  At the same time, the Arcane Horror exploded, releasing the magical barrier over the plague pit.  The firestorm ignited the rising dead from inside and purified the ramparts of blood magic.  As the storm and rift dissipated, Gordian’s torso fell to the ground with a _thud_.  His skull popped off his shoulders and rolled into the flaming pit.

Cullen barely opened his eyes as he watched Evie’s body go limp in front of him.  He dashed forward, dropping his shield and broadsword in the process.  The only thing that separated him from the woman was his gauntlets as he caught her before her head hit the dead tree’s gnarled root.  He kneeled in front of the Inner Circle, not caring about their stares or whispers.  Behind him, shouting and clanging armor thundered towards them from the support squadrons.

“Eve!  Open your eyes!  Please!”  Cullen screamed at the unconscious woman.  He barely felt a heartbeat in her neck.  “Wake up, you stubborn woman!”  He kept tapping her cheeks and shaking her lifeless body.

The woman’s face suck in rapidly like all the moisture was pulled from her skin.  Her mouth gapped a little, while her lips champed and bled profusely.  The neck pulsing from her dying heart slowed almost to a stop.  Any muscle tone or defining features slowly faded away, leaving her armor loose upon her body.  A red aura hovered over her dying being.

With the limited lyrium in his veins, the commander felt her magic drain from her body.  The mark went dead.  It was like the small glimmer of Evie was leaving the shell for good this time.  If he did not do something right then, Evie would not survive.

Cullen did the one thing he knew might reach her.

The commander did not care about the intense stares and curious people lingering around him as he held the woman close to his armor body.

The man prayed to the Maker it will be enough.

He should have done this on the ramparts, during the sparring match, on the mountain pass, _anytime_ he was with the woman he pined for these last few months.

Cullen leaned down gently and pressed his lips to hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY, CULLEN!
> 
> ...but is it enough?


	22. Dismissed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song: "Let It Die" by Starset  
> (Read this chapter and then listen to the song. When I heard it about a month ago, I said it screamed this chapter. So good!)
> 
> Story utilizes existing events and conversations from Dragon Age: Inquisition, all owned by Bioware and EA.
> 
> So, the current part I'm writing for "Fire In Your Eyes" is depressing as hell. (Like WORSE than these chapters, but it serves a major purpose, I promise. Sorry, not sorry.) I took a few days off writing that part and began typing a novella about Evie and Cullen. The next part will be at least fifteen chapters longer than the "A Safe Haven" and "Andraste's Fire, Inquisitor's Light." Each chapter needs a specific mindset to write that is intense and jarring. Saying that, if the novella is done by the time I complete this part's posting, I will post it while finishing Part 3. All I will say it is happy, fluff, and includes characters I've grown to love. :)
> 
> That also means I will keep only posting one chapter a week. I hate it. You hate it. Only three more left. If my brain worked right and real life left me alone, I would be writing 24-7. lol
> 
> You all fuel my tired typing fingers with kudos and comments! Keep them coming!

When Cole sang on the ramparts, “I see the Candle!”, Cullen knew he was successful.

 Evie’s irrational actions were not just her ‘dying’ within.  Once Dorian and Solas examined her after the Eastern Ramparts’ battle, they noticed her chest skin was blotchy red and her earlobes were infected.  Her hair fell out in large chunks and thinned when Sera and Cassandra bathed her battered body.  Solas heard the amber focus stone she always wore around her neck chime a little.  Dorian and Cullen concluded the same thing:  red lyrium had corrupted the focus stone when it was inside the futuristic monstrous creature.

Evie wore the jewelry constantly a month after arriving at Skyhold.  It slowly poisoned her until her break down on Skyhold’s battlements, setting everything into motion.  It was a logical explanation to her changed behavior in the Exalted Plains, but did not account for _how_ she became so susceptible.

Cassandra stepped forward as the main leader while Evie recovered.  The official declaration to the mage-templar squadrons and the small group of Inquisition engineers, workers, and troops was that red lyrium had corrupted the Inquisitor’s gear following Crestwood and slowly leached into her skin, developing the paranoia and overly strictness they witnessed while in the Plains.  Behind closed doors among the Inner Circle, Dorian explained the stone’s origin, keeping secret _why_ Evie kept it as jewelry.  Solas whispered to the necromancer and Cullen that he believed he had a method to purify it so it could be returned to Evie before she awoke.  It did not take a scholar to know it was important to her and most likely connected with the commander, especially after his passionate display when she fell unconscious.

During that week, the Inner Circle made it a personal mission to finish all standby issues in the Plains so Evie could rest and recuperate.  These quests also coincided with Solas purifying the stone.  The team studied the elven ruins in the western region as well beyond the rockslide once blocked.  Deep underground, they uncovered a strange ancient elven puzzle that led to an inter-sanctum.  Dorian explained the process to Cullen once they returned, stating it dealt with Veilfire, the nearby sulphur pools, and elven magic.  Once they returned the jewelry to the commander that night, all traces of corruption were gone.

While the Inner Circle handled pending missions, Cullen straightened out all the problems within the Inquisition camps.  He did not need to explain why he wished to remain near the ill woman.  Everyone just nodded and never asked questions.  He figured if they did, they believed he would bite all their heads off.  They were right.  Slowly, she recovered, purging constantly as the poison left her system.  It took a week for Evie to seem okay enough to walk around the base camp.  It also took that long week for her to stop panicking when someone tried to touch her.

By that next week, Inquisition operations were stabilized.  Leliana’s scouts eliminated ambushes from the Emerald Grave’s Freeman of the Dales.  Most of the deserters withdrew to that region, their main base of operations.  Now that the Plains’ deserter army was eradicated, supplies travelled more easily.  Within days, new squadrons and fresh supplies arrived, saving the wounded and stranded Inner Circle. 

Imperial communications for both Celene’s and Gaspard’s armies moved more freely to and from the capital.  A crow from Josephine stated that both armies have accepted the official ceasefire.  From that point onward, Inquisition troops were permitted within Orlais in larger numbers.  Cullen immediately utilized the go ahead, sending orders to Lieutenant Kestrel to send soldiers into the Emerald Graves to start searching out the red lyrium trade.  The commander ordered Captain Rylen to prepare a larger battalion to prepare for the Western Approach.  It had been almost two months since Stroud, Hawke, and Fenris left to investigate the Grey Warden disappearances and their potential corruption.  Now, with proper permission, the Inquisition could move across the empire and set up a presence in the desert.

When Cullen discovered Iron Bull, Cassandra, Dorian, and Varric took Evie out to hunt a lightning dragon, it was already too late.  It was dusk when they came back covered in mud and blood.  Evie seemed disattached, but there was a glimmer in her green eyes that said she was okay, just slowly regaining herself. 

The idea started during breakfast conversation while Cullen was at the region’s main rendezvous site, escorting supplies to basecamps and rotating troops with fresh soldiers from Skyhold.  Varric mentioned the circling dragon in the area, noticing a shimmer in Evie’s eyes.  Iron Bull called any available comrades around, suggesting going out there and having some fun.  Cassandra was first to agree, smiling at Evie.  The fire mage seemed unsure and said nothing, but it did her a world of good.  Solas and the others stayed out of range just in case they needed support.  The apostate informed the fuming commander that night that Evie’s magic was slowly returning, and the mark had not caused her any problems.  It did not mean Cullen did not holler for a bell while everyone was drinking and sharing war stories.

Two days after the dragon slaying, Cullen noticed the woman’s green eyes dying again.  The mage entered his command tent, while Cullen shuffled through some missives that just arrived from Skyhold.  She rubbed her temples with frosted fingers, hearing Solas calling out at her in the distance.  Evie seem surprised that Cullen was across the map table like she thought the tent was unoccupied.

“M-my apologies.”  Evie whimpered in a soft voice, turning back around.  “I didn’t mean-“

“It’s fine, Eve,” Cullen smiled, leaning up from his papers.

Evie could not hide the wince hearing her special name from his lips.  She hid her eyes under her bangs.  “I just needed to run away for a few moments.”

Cullen must have growled because she kept lowering her head.  “What is going on?”

The woman bit her lower lip.  “Requests.  Simple enough.  Now that things are easier here in Orlais…t-the team asked a f-few favors.  O-of course, I will do them.  After how I acted-“

“It was the red lyrium, Eve.”  He tried to assure her even though both of them knew it was more than the crazy substance.  “-They shouldn’t be pushing you already.”

Evie popped her head up again, waving her hands.  “N-no.  It’s fine.  Maybe you can handle some of the troop ones.  Sera asked if we could march through some small town.  The nobles there are involving the commoners in a land grab.”

“There are noble problems all the time.”  Cullen commented, crossing his arms across his chest.  “What’s different about this one?  Is it a Red Jenny thing?”

“J-just a tip, I guess.”  Evie kept rubbing her temples, glancing around the tent like it was about to fall down.  Evie was still missing.  She was fading again, returning to be that shell of a person.  None of them learned from before.  They just pushed her right back towards the brink as soon as she looked normal.  They assumed just purifying her jewelry would fix everything.  Maker’s Breath!

“Before Cassandra left for the Emerald Graves to support Scout Harding, she mentioned reports of uncontrollable mages and templars not handled by the Seekers of Truth, who are missing especially after Lord Seeker Lucius went envy demon and all.  One rogue templar is in the Graves and asked to take out the target on top of stopping the Freemen and meeting this Fairbanks.  I-I guess we can once I arrive.  I heard that place is nothing by wild forest.   Finding the red templars will be challenging, but also a crazed templar?”

Cullen wished he could spar and throw Cassandra into the polluted disgusting river.  The available advisors met yesterday morning to discuss the next course of action.  They agreed to send Cassandra ahead to the Emerald Graves to begin the red templar search so Evie could properly regain her magic.  This will be the first time she encounters a large amount of those monsters since Haven.   The small groups they fought in Crestwood were tiny compared with Leliana’s scouting reports and Fairbank’s restricted intelligence.  Since Cullen and she’s training was halted by prying eyes, the mage never properly prepared for the monster’s silencing abilities.  Evie was at a great risk, especially since recovering from red lyrium poisoning.

“I can come with you.  I can send for one of my-“

“No!”  Evie shouted, waving her hands in front of her hands.  “You need to finish operations here and then return to Skyhold.  It is good you are trusting your officers, but after everything that happened here and all the people that died because of me…you need to return and fix…“

The dull darkness swallowed any light in Evie’s eyes.  Her brink was worse now.  Before, she believed she was the leader they needed even if it weighted on her shoulders.  Now, after seeing what her losing mind did to everyone around her, she did not have that confidence.  The witty Evie was already gone, now the confident, determined woman who always found the right thing to say at the crumbling moments faded away.

The Anchor sparked a few times as she swayed on her feet.  Cullen rounded the table, reaching for her, but she kept backing away from him.  Her eyes begged him to keep a distance.  He knew it was not because she did not care for him.  Quite the opposite because his presence allowed her to speak freely.  She remain being what they asked of her.  The tears in her eyes were only showing up because he saw her cry so many times before.  She felt she still had to stand on her own, all eyes on her.  Being away might save him from their enemies’ wrath.  She had to be _the_ beacon.

That damn Herald of Andraste, fucking Inquisitor, and shitty Anchor!

If Cullen could remove this burden from her, he would do it in a heartbeat.  Seeing her crumble in front of him ripped his insides to shreds.  There was no longer this apprehension of being afraid to fall for her.  It already happened and she cared for him as well.  She believed they could not be together.  He knew he did not deserve her, but she should at least have the one thing that made her smile.

_A genuine smile._

Since Evie walked away from him on Skyhold’s battlements, Cullen reviewed every conversation they ever shared.  It is easy to notice all the clues in hindsight, knowing the result.  She told him since Haven she trusted him, cared deeply for him.  Each week, the boldness between them intensified.  By the time Fenris attacked her, she could not handle not touching him somehow.  Cullen could not have a painless day without her being by his side.  Even when they shared painful experiences and admitted harming one another in the past, it ended in happiness, usually watching the sunrise or sunset with huge grins on their faces. 

Cullen noticed Evie’s clothes smelled like sage and campfire all the time, mixing with orange and clove soaps.  He always ran his hand through his hair when he thought of her, thinking how her tonic controlled his blond curls even before he met her.  Even now, she reached for the purified amber focus stone around her neck, twirling it with the sparking marked hand.  On cue, Cullen reached into his coat, touching the broken amber stones he collected on the battlements.

After a few moments, Evie wiped her tears from her eyes with her right hand.  She kept her head tilted in a way so her bangs hid her eyes.  “Can you come with us tomorrow?”  She quickly asked, shaking afterwards like she asked for him to die for her.

Cullen would not think twice and die for _Evie_.

“What is going on?”  Cullen tried to look around through her bangs to see her face.  She kept inching more into shadow.

“S-solas…”  Her words were difficult with each breath.  “H-he keeps reminding me we haven’t rescued his spirit friend.  I promised back in Skyhold, and with everything happening…”

Cullen nodded, smiling.  “Of course.  With Cassandra in the Graves, you are down a shield anyways.  Plus, we are facing a demon so-“

“-No.  I promised him we would try to save it.  He says it was summoned, so most likely blood magic.”  Evie started rubbing her temples again, but harder than before.  “But, he believes it can be reverted back to a spirit because never wanted to cross the Veil.  If we get rid of the maleficars, it can turn back to normal.”

“You know that is not how that usually works…”  Cullen almost said her name, but held his tongue.  Her behavior stated she was internally walking on thin ice.

“I-I know.  But, Lydia researched this kind of thing in Ostwick.  I assisted her.  Connor surviving his possession proposed a new way of saving possessed mages.  Lydia understood not all things in the Veil were bad.  She met Archmage Wynne.  Her beneficial spirit and she lived in harmony for years.  I-I left the project after Kirkwall…You understand why.”

Cullen nodded.  “Anders always ruins the best things in this world.”

Evie finally lifted her head and locked on Cullen’s amber eyes.  For a moment, the commander believed she was going to jump into his arms and hug him.  He determined she did not know he kissed her when she fell unconscious, reviving her magic and inner being.  No one told her somehow.  The commander kept the action to himself, revisiting how her chapped, blue lips felt against his.  He did not dwell on the moment meant to revive her, not show this woman he cared deeply for her.  Maybe one day, he hoped such a moment may occur. 

The Inner Circle might be selfish idiots, but they at least saved both leaders from the embarrassment of retelling what happened on the Eastern Ramparts.  Neither Cullen nor Evie were back in Skyhold yet.  By the time they did arrive, everyone will know about his last ditch effort to bring back the woman he would fight a dragon for if asked.  She would find out soon.  How will her fractured heart react?

Right then, the small shimmer of light died away again as Evie turned towards the tent flap to leave.  “Solas, Dorian, Cole, and I are meeting at the edge of camp at dawn.  We are stopping by the Dalish camp to pick up Loranil, the Dalish hunter finally permitted to assist the Inquisition.  He will be our liaison with the Dalish clans.  From there, Solas said the summoned spirit is down by the river.”

“I will see you at sunrise then.”  Cullen nodded, watching her leave.  “I will bring the lavender tea.  You’ll need it.”

Evie froze right outside the tent, glancing back at him for a moment before forcing herself to leave.

 

* * *

 

Dorian decided to hang back with Cole and their new Inquisition agent, Loranil, for two reasons:  one, Solas’ temper was at an all-time high.  Dorian never thought the dull, bland elf could raise his voice that loudly. Two, maybe give Evie and Cullen some space.  Since Cullen’s public display of affection on the Eastern Ramparts last week, it settled the Inner Circle’s question that one of them needed to make a move.  Apparently, the whole group missed the memento because the former templar and Evie did not seem surprised by the action.  There was a debate between Varric and Iron Bull if their troubled leader even remembered the kiss.  Was it even a kiss or a gesture to breathe life back into the ailing Inquisitor?  The main point is that is happened.  Things finally moved-

-In the very opposite direction.

Instead of the commander and the recuperating Inquisitor in each other’s arms that morning, there was enough distance between them that a herd of druffalo could pass through undisturbed.  The Inner Circle suggested someone asking, but they all agreed Cullen would not openly say anything.  Evie was still too unwell to even think straight.

If Dorian had been allowed to stay in her company all those weeks, he was sure he would have noticed Evie’s illness sooner.  The Tevinter mage felt responsible for not ordering Evie to leave that damn stone in the alternative future.  Yet, she not only kept it and brought it back, but made it into jewelry.  Why did Dorian not notice the chime sooner!?  Then he remembered his own mental state around all the red lyrium in that horrific dark future.  He was drawn to its sound, its whispers.  If it was not for Evie pushing him away, he might have given in, if he was a weak-minded man.  Of course Dorian was not.  He might be highfalutin if pressed to admit his faults, but he was not weak-minded.

Weak-minded mages used blood magic to compensate.

Yet, that is what stared the group in the face when they reached the riverside.  Everyone noticed the amount of spirit magic flowing around Solas when he witness the summoning circle.  It was strange structure to see in the South.  In Tevinter’s academics, it might have been more common place, but seeing southern mages use it and bind a demon seemed unbelievable.  Alas, these few mages did just that.  Of all the horrors, it was a pride demon.

The commander instantly unstrapped his shield from his back and drew his sword.  Evie waved her hand down, walking towards the angry elf leading the group.  Dorian called forth his magic, but more to summon a barrier, if anything.  From Cole’s lack of preparation, there was no need to fight.   _Yet._

“ _…Twisted her.  Used her against everything she is!  My friend…!_ ” The spirit muttered to Dorian’s left.  Cole rocked back and forth grasping his hands together.

Dorian’s attention shifted to Evie’s voice, low and almost a whisper beside Solas.  “The mages turned your friend into a demon…?  You said it was a spirit of wisdom, not a fighter.  So why a pride demon?”

“It is too late.”  Cullen concluded, drawing his stamina and strength to prepare for battle.  “We must act before it notices-“

Solas threw the ex-templar a look.  The elven apostate mentioned last night that he would have preferred Cassandra join their team than Cullen, but the seeker already left for the Emerald Graves on their next mission.  Despite many reasons why the apostate and the seeker should hate one another, they kindly conversed and learned from one another.  They mutually understood each other’s background and education.  They appreciated one another’s hindsight to the same problem, approaching it from two different sides.  Cullen did not have that mindset.  The ex-templar did not earn Solas’ appreciation, thus the heightened tension.

“A spirit becomes a demon when denied its original purpose.”  Solas snapped at the warrior, sneering.

Evie sighed, holding herself closely.  “So they summoned it for something so opposed to its own nature that it was corrupted.  Fighting versus a willing sharer of knowledge and experience.”  Her voice quivered at the end of her conclusion.

That fire mage should not be out there.  The whole Inquisition did not know the effects of long term red lyrium exposure.  After only a week, they had her back in the field?!  Furthermore, all she did was apologize and regret her actions.  Dorian caught her among the wounded yesterday, using her low mana to just warm them and reassure them she would be their true beacon.  The judgement, the delegation in Val Royeaux, and now being a military leader was all burying Evie.  Cullen might have revived her, but it will not work the next time.  The commander should have stolen a horse and ran away with her as soon as she awoke in camp last week.

Dorian’s internal tantrum ended when a goofy looking mage with a hideous pen moustache ran up to the party in a panic.  Behind him looked like a few other mages wearing similar Circle robes.  The necromancer noticed Cullen wince studying the group, scanning them cautiously.  He knew these people.

“A mage!”  The goofy leader called, panting in Evie’s face.  “You’re not with the bandits, right?”

A healthy, normal Evie would have sang some sassy comment, but she just backed away, slightly uncomfortable and wary.  Her dull eyes kept flicking to Cullen like she heard his thoughts.  Most likely she sensed his connection to the Fade despite her own limited access and control.  Cullen responded like a good little Fereldan puppy and walked up beside her with his shield and sword at the ready.

“Do you have any lyrium potions?  Most of us are exhausted.  We’ve been fighting that dem- Knight-Commander Rutherford!?”

Cole froze beside Dorian.  His icy eyes focused on the leading mage.  “ _Wallace…Enchanter in charge of teaching apprentices how to withstand possession…he held the worst record in the Circle’s history…Most of his students died at the Harrowings almost immediately or were made tranquil-_ “

Loranil remained the farthest away from the party, never experiencing anything like this in his Dalish life.  “What is that boy saying…?”

Dorian glanced over his shoulder, noticing the elf gripped his dagger hilt tightly.  “Cole can read minds.  Feel people’s emotions.  Apparently, the commander knows this idiot.”  The Dalish hunter blinked a few times, deciding to keep his questions and thoughts to himself.

“Enchanter Wallace…”  Cullen growled.  His amber eyes burned into the goofy mage’s head.  The mage yelped a little as his supporters ran up behind him.  As soon as they saw the commander, they all prepared themselves for a fight, but Dorian could sense none of them had any mana left.  “What in the Maker’s name are you doing here?!”

“W-we left the Circle o-of course.”  The enchanter stuttered, glancing at the other accompanied mages in the group.  They must have wondered if they were his charges.  “We were on our way to meet the rebellion in Redcliffe a-and we were ambushed by those military men.”

“The rebellion is under the protection of the Inquisition!”  Evie hissed.  Dorian almost hugged the woman.  That was her fierceness everyone loved.  “They have not been in Redcliffe for over three months.  Why are you out here _truly_?”

“W-we didn’t know.”  The enchanter shrugged.  “We can discuss this afterwards.  Do you have lyrium, please?  We must contain the demon!”

“You _summoned_ that demon!”  Solas charged forward.  His magic intensified with each stomp.  “Except it was a spirit of wisdom at the time.  You made it kill.  You twisted it against its purpose!”

“I-I understand how it might be confusing to someone who has not studied demons, but after you help us, I can-“

“We’re not here to help _you_!”  Solas snapped.  Evie held out her hand to stop the elf from smacking the Circle clown with his staff.

“A word of advice?”  Evie’s snippy lilt was in her Free Marcher pitch.  Even that made the commander look at her and say a quick thank you to the Maker.  “I’d hold off on explaining how demons work to my friend here.  He would tie you up in so many ropes on _real_ Fade knowledge that you would be like a worm wiggling on the ground.”

Not her best wisecrack, but it is the first in weeks. 

The enchanter did not get the message.  Instead, he double down on his stupidity.  Dorian was well trained in Tevinter, but even he knew that Solas understood the Fade better than the most renowned specialists in the Imperium.  “Listen to me!  I was one of the foremost experts in the Kirkwall Circle.  Just ask the knight-commander!”

Cullen’s cut lip twitched.  “I am no longer a templar, Wallace.  I am the Commander of the Inquisition Forces.  To my right here is Evelyn Trevelyan, the head of the Inquisition.  This elven apostate is our specialist in the Fade and the fade rifts that you were more likely fighting than bandits.  Also, I am pretty sure most of your students perished rather than learned how to defend themselves against demons.  If Knight-Commander Meredith gave of a damn at the end, she would have noticed your faults and pushed Orsino to replace you!”

The mage glanced back the people behind him.  They were young adults, mostly around the age of their harrowings or right after.  Dorian concluded they followed this moron just because he held a past teaching role.  He probably led them in circles for years.

“Just shut up, all of you!”  Solas yelled at the group.  He pointed at the startled enchanter.  “Admit it!  You summoned it to protect you from other demons and the bandits!”

The mage could not think of a lie, hanging his head.  “I-yes.  The book said it could help us!”

“Did you actually read the book or more likely looked at the drawings and guessed?”  Dorian cooed, rolling his grey eyes.

“If it is a ritual binding…”  Evie rubbed her chin.  “I’ve studied this before.  I should be able to disrupt the binding pillars to undo the summoning.”

“Thank you, Evelyn.”  Solas’ tone softened.  “These children bound it to obedience, then commanded it to kill.”  His attention shifted to Cullen still unconvinced with the plan.  “ _That_ is when it turned.  Breaking the binding will let it return to its natural state.  No orders to kill, no conflict with its nature, no demon.”

“What!?”  Wallace cried, shaking his head no.  “The binding is the only thing keeping the demon from killing us!  Whatever it was before, it is a monster now!  Knight-Commander, please!  You were in Kirkwall.  You know it is hopeless.”

In that moment, Dorian noticed a silent conversation between Evie and Cullen.  Something about the Fereldan caused Evie’s eyes to grow bright and strong.  She touched his shoulder for the first time in weeks.  The commander was shaking, gritting his teeth, but as her marked hand rested on his armored body, the tremors stopped and he relaxed.  Through her eyes, Evie convinced him to believe her.  He nodded in agreement, his amber eyes burning in disdain at the enchanter.

Dorian reached for his staff as Cole pulled out his daggers.  “Loranil, keep back.  We’ll handle this.  Keep out of the demon’s view so it won’t charge you.”  The unsure Dalish hunter nodded his head, ran behind a nearby boulder.  Cole disappeared into stealth, reappearing across the way already striking one of the binding pillars.

Evie waved at the group of mages to back away.  “Stay out of sight.  Dorian, don’t allow your lightning strikes to target the demon.  If we attack it, it is commanded to defend.”

“Way ahead of you, Sunshine!”  Dorian called, casting ice from his staff.  He already decided to avoid his electrical magic.

Evie fade-stepped to the closest pillar, using fire mines and immolate against it.  The spells barely came to her, causing her to sway once summoning the mana.  Cullen was not far behind her, supporting her by blocking the magic charges the binding circle created and slicing at the structures with his broadsword.

It only took a few moments.  Evie knew which pillar to strike and how.  As the fifth pillar collapsed, the summoning circle disappeared and the pride demon disappeared.  In its place was a woman’s form with glowing green eyes, much like Evie’s when she is herself.  Evie’s condition drastically declined as she collapsed into Cullen, although still awake.  The commander caught her, lifted her in his arms and kneeled to cradle her close.  She could barely move her body.  Dorian rushed to her side, healing her strained body from using so much energy too early.

Solas kneeled by the grey ashy woman.  His eyes watered at the sight.  “Lethaline.  Ir abelas…”

“ _…I’m sorry…_ ”  Cole whispered, appearing beside Loranil as he emerged from his hiding spot.  Both people ventured to Dorian’s side.

“Tel’abelas.  Enasal.  It’tel’him.”  The spirit spoke with such a sorrowful tone.

“ _I’m not.  I’m happy.  I’m me again._ ”  Cole translated.  Dorian glanced at the boy, then Loranil.  The Dalish hunter covered his ears, thinking it would block the spirit’s mind reading.

“Ma melava halani.  Mala sulefin nadas.  Ma ghilana mir din’an.”

“ _You helped me.  Now you must endure.  Guide me into death._ ”  Cole stated for the spirit.

It closed its eyes as Solas positioned his hands to release it from the physical world.  “Ma nurvenin.  Dareth shirl…”

“…safe journey…”  Evie mumbled.  Her flushed cheek pressed against Cullen’s breastplate and her pale fingers gripped his coat tightly.  The ex-templar studied their surroundings, prepared to protect the woman with his life. 

The spirit disappeared into ash.  “Solas…I’m sorry.”  Evie whimpered between gasps. 

The elven apostate did not look up from the spot the spirit once sat.  “Don’t be.  We gave it a moment’s peace before the end…that’s more than it might have had if…”  His eyes shifted to the enchanter and the mages beside him behind a boulder.

“ _…They tortured.  Killed her.  They must die-_ “ Cole repeated.

Evie tensed.  “Solas!  Wait-“

Before anyone could react, Solas lobbed a strange powerful spell over the boulder, exploding the enchanter and the other mages into nothing.  All that remained was their bones, piling in small separating stacks.  Evie stumbled to her feet.  Her eyes ran with tears.  Panic and disbelief was written across her face.

Solas placed his staff back on his back.  “I need some time alone.  I will meet you all back at Skyhold-“

Evie stumbled towards him, her arm outreaching as he started to walk away.  “Wait!  We…we need you in the Emerald Graves.  Please!  Solas?”

“Goodbye, Inquisitor.”  Solas snapped, causing Evie to freeze in place.

When Evie fell unconscious the week before, the Inner Circle stated it was best not to call her by her given titles.  Once they read her deranged red lyrium writings, they believed it was best not to remind her of what she held onto during the paranoia.  Until they knew she was stable, it was for the best.

Hearing it on Solas’ lips sent Cullen into a rage.

“Damn it!”  Cullen dropped his sword and shield and ran to Evie’s side.  He went to grasp her shoulder, but she batted his hands away.

“No-“

“Eve, please-“

“-I said no, _Commander_.”

“…Candle’s gone…”  Cole whispered, falling to his knees.  “I can’t see her…”

“Eve, listen to me.”  Cullen pleaded, trying to see her eyes under her bangs.  “Don’t listen to him.  He is-“

“-abandoning our mission.  Leaving _me_ to do this alone again.”  Her voice was low and direct.  “I will do as the Inquisition needs.  We will leave for the Emerald Graves in the morning without him.”

“Don’t leave!  You are in no condition to fight the red templars!”  Cullen yelled, trying to reach for the mage again, but she backed away.

“Commander, your concern is noted, but I must continue despite my condition and health.”  The fire mage explained, walking back towards camp although using her staff to keep standing.  “I am the Inquisitor, the Herald of Andraste.  You are dismissed and free to return to your duties, Commander Rutherford.”

“You are fucking Evie Trevelyan, a fire mage who can drink Iron Bull under the table and insult Vivienne without a second thought!”  Cullen explained, hoping to get the woman to turn back towards him.

She stopped for a moment, glancing over her shoulder.  Her eyes were dead.  There was no life, no soul, no heart inside.  “It seems everyone else can be who they want to be.  They can have what they wish without consequences.  But, I cannot.  Please…forget me…”

Cullen kicked and stomped the ground repeatedly as Evie disappeared behind a rock face.  Cole kept rocking back and forth at Dorian’s feet, whimpering he could not see the Candle—Evie—in the Fade.  Loranil remained quiet, his hands still on his ears to avoid anyone knowing his thoughts.

Dorian just stared at the commander, wondering why he just stood there.  “Do something, you dimwitted nug!  Kiss her again!  Bring her back!”

Cullen ran his hand through his hair, rubbing his neck in the process.  When he finally confronted Dorian, his face was flushed bright red and his eyes watered.  “You all don’t get it…You never will.  You think it is easy for her, being everything people ask.”

“We have talked about this.”  Dorian did not know why the commander brought up the obvious.  “Which is why I do not understand why you are just standing there!”

“It is not just the Inquisition, Dorian!”  The ex-templar hollered, pointing directly at the necromancer.  “It is all the pushing.  ‘Eve, do this for me please?  I need this now.  You need to act this way.  If you say that, it will be a mess!’  You all never asked her once if she needed anything.  You were too busy asking and snooping.  Varric and his betting book.  Sera trying to steal her booze.  Josephine always finding her hiding spots.  You all gawking at us sparring.  You never wondered why we were out there at dawn, huh?  Are you aware why she never sleeps at nights?  What her nightmares entail?  None of you were curious to why she left Skyhold for a whole day without telling anyone?  Why, despite your warning, she hung onto that focus stone even with all the known risks?  You all never let her _BE_ her.  You thought by her saying a few things about her past meant she trusted you.  It is not just because I fell for her, Dorian, that I want to run all of you through with my sword, gut you like pigs.  I _listened_ to her!  I never asked anything from her!  I am her _friend_!”

Cullen waved his left hand at the Tevinter mage disgusted, while pinching his nose bridge with the other.  He retrieved his broadsword and shield before marching back to camp.  “Why don’t you ask yourself if you ever saw her genuinely smile…?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first time I played DA:I and did this mission, I immediately freaked. Kirkwall mages binding demons. I half expected Cullen and Hawke to appear out of nowhere and bitch-slap them. I knew writing this story, Cullen HAD to be there for the exchange. I love how this chapter turned out because he was present and keeping Evie safe. *so cute, so sad*


	23. Mistakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song: "Honestly Ok" by Dido
> 
> Story utilizes existing events and conversations from Dragon Age: Inquisition, all owned by Bioware and EA
> 
> So, is it bad when you dream about closing fade rifts in your hometown two nights in a row? The Inner Circle wasn't with me, but my husband was. Let's say closing a rift HURTS. lol Now if I could get both Cullen, Alistair, and my husband in the same dream while closing rifts. DROOL! hehe!
> 
> The last two chapters will be posted Monday and Friday next week. I can't wait another week and probably neither can any of you. I got sick again the last few days, so writing slowed again. Still not done with Part 3 (it just keeps growing!], but my special novella has a few more chapters. I have been working on DAI stuff for most of the year and cannot stop! 
> 
> Thank you all for the love and great comments. I know I have been jerking around a few of you for a while. Thank you for sticking around through all the bad stuff. :)

“ _The heft in my hands, strong, but curbing, careful, like her.  Soot, smudge on her, cheek, tiny scars on her fingers, old fires, her little frowns when she twists her gear ever so slightly._ ”[1] Cole whispered beside Varric, ice blue eyes staring into the fire.

The dwarf figured the kid would pick up him thinking about Bianca, both the woman who got away and the crossbow.  He always did every time he cleaned and oiled his prize weapon.  Varric remembers her face clearly when she was designing and developing the crossbow.  Her little smirks and gabs at him through the inner workings.  Sex inspired her, so she was always naked and slick with sweat while working on the project.  Varric definitely did not mind.  Cole picked up on his sorrowful, lonely heart.  Typically, Varric could hide the emotions deep inside himself, thinking about a story plot or playing cards.  Yet everyone in camp that night was quiet.  A dark cloud hung over the group.

“Yup.  That’s her, Kid.”  Varric motioned to his weapon, smirking a little.  He hoped the other companions assumed it was all about the weapon, but one glance at Dorian, and he knew he could not fool anyone.

Ever since Solas stormed off and left the Inner Circle, the Tevinter mage stared at everyone with disgusted eyes.  He scowled like Cullen once Evie awoke from the red lyrium poison.  Dorian never said what happened along the river that early morning, but afterwards Evie was more isolated than before.  She rarely spoke, ate, or slept.  The mages did not sense red lyrium in her body, but her eyes were dull and disconnected.  It was like before, but instead of driving everyone hard, she just let everything follow like a river, never pushing or pulling.  She just walked through the movements, a mindless zombie through life.  Her magic returned, but the mark sparked constantly, allowing everyone to know where she was, which somehow made the situation worse.

They had been the Emerald Graves for two weeks.  The place was beautiful, but a darkness hung over the landscape.  It was always sun shining, but it was blinding and unwelcomed.  Boulders littered everywhere that typically Evie would climb or sleep.  However, the fire mage avoided heights as much as possible, always scanning the ground like it would climb up and swallow her.  There were animals everywhere, specifically chocolate brown nugs.  Yet, Evie did not set them alight.  They actually walked up to her…and unfortunately one pissed on her boot one evening, but she did nothing.

This place was Evie’s heavens, but she wanted none of it.

There was no soul life inside her body.

The one person who brought her out of her funk before was in Skyhold.  Evie dismissed him after the fiasco with Solas.  Cullen glared and watched with his arms across his chest as the Inner Circle rode on horseback out of the Exalted Plains.  The commander said nothing, but his behavior looked like he was going to decapitate every last one of them. 

A grey hue surrounded Cullen when everything looked on the up and up.  Seriously, the man kissed the Inquisitor in front of the entire expedition.  Well, kiss was may be a strong word.  It was a resurrection.  Evie was magically dying, and he reignited something in her.  It seemed everything would end with a happy ending.  Alas, nothing occurred.  If anything, their relationship became more strained and broken.

Varric claimed first that something was forming between Cullen and Evie in Haven.  The ex-templar and mage argued and differed on many issues, usually very publically in front of troops and clerics.  However, it was the quiet moments when difficult situations arose around Evie, such as the assassination attempts.  More emotions arose behind the scenes.  Meeting Philliam weakened that growing bond.  Once drunk Evie admitted Cullen stationed her brother at Kirkwall Chantry, it explained the fractured friendship. 

Anders’ involvement became especially clear after the explosive battle between Hawke, Fenris, Cullen, and Evie.  By the campfire, Varric immediately hung his head.  He misread that situation horribly.  He knew the future Trevelyan patriarchs were templars and died.  That night Varric realized while Cullen held him off the ground, Anders was responsible for both deaths.  Fenris almost killed Evie.  His old companion was unhinged all those years ago, and it only escalated once he and Hawke left Kirkwall.  The dwarf knew he fucked up beyond imagination.  If anything positive occurred from that night, it allowed Cullen and Evie to overcome a huge hump in their relationship.  They could not be without the other after that.

“What went wrong…?”  Varric sighed, refolding Bianca the Crossbow and flinging her back over his shoulder into her holster.  The writer did not need to tell the others what he meant.  One look into their eyes said everything.

“Are we finally talking about this?”  Iron Bull muttered, taking another swig from his liquor skin pouch.

“I mean seriously, yeah?”  Sera called, leaning over the fire.  Her eyes focused on the first enchanter across the way.  “They should boning against some tree by now.”

Vivienne rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest.  The Iron Bitch stayed in camp the last week instead of avoiding the party.  As much as there was hatred between Evie and Vivienne, the enchantress seemed concerned as well, placing full plates of food in front of Evie at mealtimes and breaks.  A bell later, it sat untouched, while wild animals snuck bites.  Varric wondered if Evie avoided the stew because she believed it was poisoned or just to spite the enchantress.

“I know it is unfamiliar to all of you, but it is improper and ill-advised for a templar and mage to fraternize.” Vivienne informed with her salty voice.  “I must credit Evie for doing what is correct as a mage and as the Inquisition’s leader.”

“Bugger off, Vivy!”  Sera snapped, flicking her middle finger at the mage.

“The Circles are gone, Vivienne.” Blackwall huffed as Iron Bull handled him the liquor pouch.  The older man took a drink, allowing his dark stare to burn into the Orlesian sympathizer.  “He’s no longer a templar.  She is the Inquisitor.  I see no difference between you and your treasury.”

“I assume you mean my dear Bastien, sir.”  Vivienne smacked her lips together.

Blackwall took another sip before passing the skin to Sera.  “A person with power and money, two things you respond to like cat and glittering lights.  Once you use him up, you will move on.”

Varric thought he might shit himself.  A nerve twitched in Vivienne’s cheek.  The old warrior broke her iron mask.  “I am dedicated to my beloved, Warden.  I cannot say the same for you, who ignores his order’s Calling and does not tell anyone he is susceptible to an ancient magister’s mind control.”

“He is not mine.”  Blackwall’s eyes flicked at Dorian on Iron Bull’s right.  He was the only one not to speak yet.  “Corypheus.  One of yours, isn’t he?”

There were two people who could defuse this situation with either her temper or his logical mind.  Solas was still missing following the event in Exalted Plains, and Cassandra was touching base with the basecamp regarding tomorrow’s operations.  Things were wrapping up in the Emerald Graves.  It looked like the Inner Circle could return to Skyhold within the next few days.  They all have been gone for two very long months.

Dorian blinked a few times.  “One of mine?  Like a pet?  Like a giant darkspawn hamster with aspirations of godhood?  ‘Dorian, what can’t you look after your little friends?  Corypheus peed on the carpet again!’  In this analogy, the carpet is Haven.”[2]  Dorian jumped to his feet, grabbed the liquor skin from Sera before she took a drink and threw it in the fire.  “In this bloody analogy, the carpet is fucking Evie!”

“So, you’re finally going to spill it.”  Iron Bull concluded, staring up at the fuming man.

“Fasta vaas!”  Dorian hollered, throwing his hands in the air.  “That’s the fucking problem!  Everyone is ‘spilling it!’  I, who can never keep a secret, tested myself for the last two weeks if I could just not say anything so _we_ don’t say anything.  Everyone here has a secret.  I most certainly do!  Bull is Ben-Hassrath, so he’s pouring over with secrets.  Blackwall won’t say a fucking thing about his life.  Varric holds his crossbow like he is going to masturbate with it-“

“-Whoa!  I know sick people, but _nope_!”  Varric defended himself.

“The point is that we are talking about Evie!”  Dorian barked at the dwarf.  “We—who claim to be her supporters and friends— _love_ talking about her life.  We also love emptying our own problems on her.”

“Evie has secrets!” Sera commented.  “She doesn’t tell us everything.”

“Do you wonder why?”  Dorian replied, flipping his left hand at the rogue like he was going to smack her.  “She doesn’t trust us because when she says something, we go teasing her or spreading it everywhere!”

“Evie doesn’t mind teasing.”  Varric remarked.  “Look at her at the dragon slaying party.  She took it like a champ!”

“Ha!”  Iron Bull huffed, rolling his one eye.

“What does that mean?”  Varric quizzed the Qunari.

“The Vint’s right-“

“-Can I have that written down?”  Dorian interrupted, a little flirty lilt to his pitch.

Iron Bull waved him off.  “None of you noticed how she sunk in her chair trying to disappear when you all brought up the sparring.  What we were excited about that morning when that crazy runner came around was something Evie looked forward to _alone_.  I don’t think we were supposed to be there _or_ know.  The woman drank herself into unconsciousness that night.  All she did was shake and pretended to laugh.”

“Then why did she not stop us?!”  Varric hollered, pointing at the people who were present that night.  “Why didn’t you?!”

“I _was_.  I talked about the dragon fight, the real reason why we were there.”  Bull reminded the group.  “Evie came there to enjoy herself and instead got burned by her friends.”

“That runner did not just interrupt their sparring…”

All eyes flew to Vivienne.  The mage was staring at her nails, admiring her magical ability to keep them perfectly manicured while in the field.  “Would you like to enlighten us or do you need to repaint them?” Blackwall groaned at the woman.

“Why should I?”  Vivienne cooed.  “I do not believe the Inquisitor should be distracted from her duty.  Do you not say, Blackwall, that she is a great beacon blessed by Andraste?  She has no time romancing subordinates when there is a darkspawn magister trying to breach the Veil.”

“Says the woman who is in league with her sister…”  Varric hissed, eying the Circle mage.

“What on Thedas are you talking about, dear?”

Varric cackled a few times, forcing it out of his lungs to show it was fake.  “You two _hate_ each other.  There is a connection there that makes Evie believe you are in cahoots with her sister, Patricia.”

“Patricia is married to Bastien’s son, Laurent.”  Vivienne explained so matter-of-factly.  “Alas, that does not mean I am supporting the Inquisitor’s sister.  Quite the contrary!  I greatly dislike the Free Marcher slut.  That is one reason why I sent that invitation to Evelyn.  I had always wished to contact her when I learned from acquaintances that Patricia’s sister was a mage.  You see, that blonde hussy discriminates against us mages.  She believes we should be cleansed from the world like darkspawn, or at least branded and left to die.  Regrettably, Bann Trevelyan refused to allow my letters to reach his youngest daughter.  Thank you, though, for explaining our _strained_ relationship.”

Varric almost fell over.  Holy shit.  The interconnections between the comrades and Evie before the Conclave…

“What did you say about that runner?”  Iron Bull stopped the conversation to reference Vivienne’s previous comment.

The mage rolled her eyes and sighed.  “Fine.  I witnessed from my landing the dear Inquisitor and commander speaking on a deserted rampart in Skyhold.  They looked like they were having a serious conversation.  When things looked…how should I say it… _promising_ for Varric’s betting enterprise, when that runner interrupted the exchange.  Poor darling Evelyn left in tears, yet composed, a few moments later.”

“Damn…”  Varric shook his head.  “I need to talk to that Jimmy idiot…”

“And that’s another thing!”  Dorian pointed at Varric.  “I bet everyone appreciates your gambling on their lives, dwarf!  You already write enough about everyone in your crappy stories.  How about we not turn someone’s personal life into a fucking money grab!?”

“Alright!  Alright, Sparkler…”  Varric sighed, reaching into his tunic chest pocket.  He pulled out his betting book and started tearing out pages.  “Message received…Andraste’s ass…”

“Fasta vaas!  And why does everyone assume by having some background with Evie wins the friend award?  My family has a Trevelyan in the bloodline.”  Dorian stated, using his index finger and thumb to squeeze his forehead.  “That does not mean Evie will trust me immediately.  Actually, Evie doesn’t trust anyone.  The woman loathes herself most of all!  The only person who has taken the time to gain her trust is the commander, and we just stomped all over that like the Remigold!  The one thing that does not make her feel and act like the Inquisitor, and we ruined it all!”

“Evie is a strong person.  She has led us quite well until she was tainted with red lyrium.”  Blackwall commented, assuring the bombastic Tevinter.  “Now we know that we messed up, we will keep out of the way.  Everyone believes in her:  the army, the nobility, and the common people.”

“Ha!”  Dorian shouted.  “That is the worst problem of all!  You, Blackwall, always tells her to be the best for everyone.  You know how much pressure that is.  She already second guesses herself even after reviewing for weeks all the facts.  Everyone expects her to be everything at the same time!”

Varric hung his head.  “Shit…I’ve noticed the same thing.  Hawke experienced the pressure on her own as everything was going to shit in Kirkwall.  But, I doubt Evie will let a Chantry explode.”

“One already has exploded, yeah?”  Sera hollered.  “The bloody Conclave!”

“Adda girl, Sera!” Iron Bull laughed, smacking the fuming rogue, who seemed surprised everyone forgot about what started the war. “I don’t know Hawke.  Haven’t drank with her yet, but I doubt if she could handle being a deific icon after the Divine is murdered in the explosion and an ancient magister wants to destroy the world.”

“-Hawke was considered as Inquisitor, but I doubt if she would have accepted for that reason.”

Seven sets of eyes shifted to the dark forest.  With crunching leaves and breaking twigs under her seeker metal boots, Cassandra walked towards the fireplace, gritting her teeth.  She looked like she was going to kill the entire group.  “In hindsight, I am relieved we have Evie…”

“How much did you hear, Seeker?” Varric asked.  Dorian took his seat, pulling his robe collar up to hide his flushed face.  Blackwall pulled on his beard, one of his nervous habits.  Iron Bull reached into his bag beside his seat and took out a new liquor jug.  Sera slipped into stealth.  Vivienne glanced away as if she was not part of the conversation.  Cole was the only one who seemed relieved the warrior arrived.

“Enough.”  The seeker hissed.  “I am taking care of this now.  It is my fault after all-“

 

* * *

 

How did Cassandra let it get so bad?

Cassandra fought with that question for two months now.  In some ways, the seeker wished she could go back in time and fought Evie’s pushing in Skyhold’s gate house.  The warrior should have said nothing, left, and told the advisors that they needed another solution.  Evie showed her discolored arms and body, admitted she lost an ovary and some intestines from the broken sword following Haven.  The seeker later learned how her brothers died by Anders’ hands.  Cassandra should have left the fire mage alone.  She abandoned her ten years ago, and now she did it again.

Cullen was right.  The mage was a broken woman who barely stood on her own two feet.  She was a great advisor and scholar.  She could rally people behind her in war and peace.  Most of all, Evie Trevelyan was exactly the type of person the Inquisition needed.

Cassandra killed that great woman.

None of the advisors accounted for how the new focus and attention would impact her inner mind and soul.  They never addressed protecting her personal life.  The woman did not have any privacy as a child and in the Circle.  Why did they assume she could discover it as the single most important person in all of Thedas?  This is what the commander meant.  They all just thought about how she helped _them_.  Cassandra vowed to Evie to help her on her personal quest.  Instead, she abandoned her as the wolves circled closer.

Cullen did what he could to keep Evie afloat.  Yet, everything dragged him down too.  He never had a personal life either.  He was a templar in the Circle, separated from normal society, living in barracks and married to duty.  No wonder Cassandra noticed his withdraw symptoms disrupting his work in the Exalted Plains.  She was not permitted in the field, but saw his orders and missives at basecamps, she knew everyone was falling apart.  Furthermore, the seeker’s temper blinded her.  She should have recognized Evie was poisoned.  Cassandra should have seen that she and Cullen were broken and forcibly separated by duty.  Instead, the seeker just raised her voice and argued with a sick woman and a troubled man who tried to keep them both alive during a difficult situation.

Cassandra could not discount the Trevelyan Family’s role in everything.  The seeker snuffed at Evie’s concerns that her sister was meddling in affairs.  From Vivienne’s harsh criticism, Evie was right.  The older sister was dangerous, the same or if not more than Bann Ian Trevelyan.  Her cousin, Burton, became possessed by an envy demon.  Other cousins watched closely at her actions, criticizing her past and present to the mage’s enemies.

Evie had eyes on her from _everyone_.  All people need a support base.  Family was usually the first and most basic, but Cassandra and Evie both knew their families were deflective and more likely to cause pain than provide relief.  Second, friends provide assistance, but all of the Inner Circle just gossiped and teased, not considering that this was Cullen and Evie’s first true romance, something to be cherished and only read about in books.  They all walked over it and kept placing Evie in a position that she felt she could not be with the man she loved. 

Lastly, the community typically assist their leader.  Yet, the society around Evie was toxic.  Not only were the nobles gossiping and trying to assassinate her, but everyone else viewed her as the solution to everything.  All Evie wanted was to be considered like everyone else.  She orchestrated everything around her to include everyone equally, but no one accepted her as just a person too.  The mage told Cassandra she did not want to be grouped with Queen Asta Cousland-Therinn, Champion Veronica Hawke, and the Maker’s Bride Andraste.  Yet, Evie was placed above most of them, even as far as an equal to the most holy Bride of the Maker.  Cassandra dreamed of serving someone blessed by the Maker, propping Evie up because of her divine intervention.  It got so out of hand.

Cassandra’s eyes were open both figuratively and physically when she saw the small green halo of light in a dark cave about a half of mile from camp.  The seeker noticed the woman walked that direction when she spoke to Scout Harding with the expedition’s final orders earlier.  The seeker hesitated on how to approach everything.  Learning everyone was still talking about Evie could just lead the mage into a darker depression.  Yet, if Evie did not know everyone realized their mistakes, she might not believe her and continue downhill.

The entry to both the cave and conversation formed together as a chocolate brown nug ran through Cassandra’s legs and right up to the glowing green light on the other side of the cave.  It was dark both outside and inside the cave, but the Anchor illuminated the walls, floor, and ceiling.  It cracked and sparked like a painful light source based on Evie’s wincing facial expressions.  The seeker inched forward, making enough noise in the darkness not to surprise the Inquisitor, but to make her presence known.

The chocolate nug raced up to the still woman, rubbing her legs and squeaking up at her to pet him.  Evie leaned against the cave’s back wall with her knees bent and her hands in her lap.  Her face was blank.  She never blinked.  Her hair was barely in a ponytail.  It too much energy to braid or to fix properly.  Her leather armor was torn and not properly cared for.  It was covered in filth, blood, and demon goo from all the fade rifts they closed throughout the last two months. 

“I think I have seen everything…”  Cassandra sighed, watching the nug bounce around the cave trying to get Evie’s attention.  “Evelyn Trevelyan _not_ killing a nug.”

“Don’t have the mana for it.”  Cassandra nearly cried hearing Evie’s dead voice.  The Free March accent was gone, her pitch monotone with no signs of her temper or snippy tongue.  In the darkness, the seeker could not tell if the mage had been branded.

Cassandra bit her lower lip.  At least Evie was speaking.  Good.  The next few sentences would make or break the seeker’s attempt to help the mage.  “A copper for your thoughts?”

Evie’s face still remained blank.  “Thinking about that d’Onterre girl.  My father was going to hide me away, protect me he said.  He did not want me going to a tower.  Would it have ended the same way?  Me locked away in my room disattached from other people until a demon promised me friendship, a way to be part of the world?  Most likely.  I don’t think Father was ashamed of me, but I know the other Trevelyans still are.  We mages are not lepers, just ‘blessed’ by the Maker.  The Chantry has made us undesirable…”  Evie’s dull eyes glanced up at the seeker.  “Do you believe the Chantry is worth saving?”

Cassandra was not there for a religious debate, but she decided to humor the mage.  If it meant gaining Evie’s ear, she would do whatever she could.  “If you ask my opinion, it is.  Absolutely.  Cast the Chantry aside, and new problems replace old ones.  We will have learned nothing from history.  The people need stability, and the Chantry needs a new purpose.  Andraste had a dream for us, even mages.  It can still be achieved.”

Evie glanced away, allowing the marked hand to fall to the cave’s floor.  The chocolate nug ran up to her and sniffed her hand.  “I understand Andraste…and Divine Justinia now more than ever.  I feel selfish and foolish for staying out of the mage-templar war and being baited to the Conclave by the hopes of only helping myself.”

“I do not think it was selfish or foolish.”  Evie did not turn her head, only her black eyes.  Cassandra cleared her throat.  “Your assessment of the war was correct.  All sides were wrong, but you and the Inquisition held the pieces to correct their mistakes and build a better world from the destruction.  Somethings have to fall apart to purge the darkness they contain.  Once cleansed, something beautiful can emerge.  I see you as the link between all sides, who understands the problems and contains the necessary skills to bring all together and solve the world’s craziness.”

Cassandra kneeled down in front of Evie, hanging her head.  “I’m sorry, Evie.  I failed you yet again.  I did not protect you for everyone, including yourself.  I should have considered how becoming the Inquisitor would harm you.  The features that made you the best candidate for the position were worn down and drain from your body, mind, and soul.  We all only thought of what you could give _us_.  We allowed darkness to consume you…and the commander.  The darkness was already there, but you hid it so well alone for so long behind you sarcasm and temper.  Now, those defenses crumbled.  We see what you were and have become.  I do not know what is worse:  me abandoning you ten years ago, or now when I was present but not engaged.”

“It is part of leadership.”  Evie’s tone was still flat.  “To carry everyone else-“

“-No!  If we want change in Thedas, one person cannot do it alone.  That horrible future you witness will happen, if you disappear like you have now and in the Exalted Plains.  The people within the Inquisition have learned nothing from that experience, what you lived through three months ago.” Cassandra hissed, slamming her fist on the cave ground.  “All of this is like those strange seers who lay on a bed of needles.  One needle punchers the skin and makes them bleed.  Thousands of nails and they barely poke the person.  It is sharing equal weight.  That is all you ever wanted.  To be like everyone else.  To not be seen as undesired by your family and the populace.  Now that you have a chance to be accepted, you are thrusted on a pillar and praised.  Two opposite extremes with the same hollow and sad ending.  I kneel here now trying to figure out how to lower you from that pillar and maybe only place you on a small hill over all instead, because you are special…unique, Evelyn.  That needle prick might be a little more intense than others, but it will not break the skin.  I promise you.”

Evie hung her head.  “I accepted this position, knowing the difficulties.  I will not leave it.”

The mage misinterpreted the seeker’s words.  Cassandra must fix this now.  “I am not asking you to step down, just maybe not carry it all on your own.”  Cassandra smiled softly.  “The Inner Circle knows they fumbled.  I think now they will be more willing to accept duties that will alleviate your burdens.  They will most likely shelter you from the gossip, especially since I do not think they will be spreading it anymore. All of your friends will surround you and share as much as the weight as possible to protect _you_.”

“There will always be gossip-“

“-but they will not be the culprits anymore.”  Cassandra remarked harshly.  She was angry, specifically with herself, but she kept her temper under control.  “I wondered why you never brought this to my attention.  Then, I answered my own question.  You never had a friend until now.  Cullen was the first person you actually spoke to as yourself, not as a Trevelyan or a Circle mage.  We all stomped on your first actions to open to us and be honest.  You may never forgive us, but do not punish Cullen.  You two need each other more than Thedas needs you.”

Evie rolled her eyes.  “I know what you are trying to do, Cassandra.”  Her voice had a bit of venom to it.  Cassandra almost did a cartwheel in happiness.  There was still emotion in this beautiful person.  “I am the Inquisitor.  Cullen is my commander.  It is militarily and socially unacceptable!”

“So was a mage and templar fraternizing in the Circle or a commoner embracing and kissing an unconscious noblewoman.”  Cassandra named.  “Yet, this is a new world.  _You_ are building that new world.  You two care for one another, even love maybe.  It’s a real romance novel, beautiful, genuine, and unthinkable.  Varric is probably ashamed he could never create such a tale.  That is why everyone is cheering you both on.  By doing so, we tainted that splendor.  Evie, prove them wrong.  Fight those social taboos.”

Evie rolled her head on her shoulders.  “It isn’t just that!  Patricia is already attacking Josephine.  She and the Trevelyans abuse everything I cared about.  By staying away, I am protecting you all…protecting him.”

“Cullen is one of the greatest warrior in Thedas.”  Cassandra informed the mage, chuckling a little.  “I think he can defend himself.  I know I underestimated your sister and your family, but you cannot sit in fear and depression your whole life because you don’t want anyone you care about hurt.  Most likely, your family will still act and you will just be alone.  Don’t give them the satisfaction of seeing your miserable and in pain.”

“I think I ruined our chance.”  Tears welled in Evie’s eyes.  Her voice broke.  “I kept pushing him away…”

Cassandra offered her hand to help Evie up.  “The man was willing to kill us all because we buried you under our filth.  He cares for you more than you realize.”  Evie’s skinny Anchor hand slipped into Cassandra’s grasp.  The warrior tugged and pulled her to her feet.  “Come, you need food and some sleep.  We return for Skyhold the day after tomorrow.  You need your strength before seeing that pining mabari again.”

Evie smirked, shaking her head.  “Seeker, why do I get the feeling you are looking for a friend?”

Cassandra smiled back.  “I do not need to look far.”

“Ha…please…” Evie’s sassy perked in her voice a little.

Both women spoke on the journey back to camp, trading observations about the Emerald Graves, specifically their battles with the red templars and how to prepare in the future.  Evie specifically struggled against the raging knights, who kept draining her mana and silencing her unconscious.  Casandra kept protecting her body until she awoke and burned everything to the ground.  Both women discussed tactics and team strategies to avoid such incidences.

With each sentence, Evie’s tone shifted and showed life was returning to her soul, yet her eyes were still dark and dull.  Cassandra hypothesized the green burning rifts would remain that way until she spoke to Cullen.  Something about the commander breathed life into Evie that Cassandra could only dreamed about. 

The seeker’s heart wandered back Regalyan, the only man Cassandra felt she could care for.  They lived on opposite sides of a terrible war.  Cassandra only just became a full seeker and wished to save and protect her order once the Lord Seeker and her mentor were killed almost twenty years ago.  Galyan, as everyone called him, was a Circle mage who collaborated with other mages to develop an underground spy network to protect mages and stop maleficars.  Cassandra watched that network slowly die as the templars strengthened their hold over mages, but Galyan kept pushing for reforms, still loyal to the Circles.  Cassandra and he saw each other when given a chance.  It had been five years since their last meeting when she saw him across the hall at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, with Tranquil Avexis to his left.  A message arrived later in his handwriting that he hoped they could chat at the tavern in Haven before the Conclave began.  That was why Cassandra was not at the temple when it exploded.  Galyan indirectly saved her life.

The seeker never mourned for her love and dear friend.  Instead, she consumed herself with rage and determination to discover what happened and make Corypheus pay for his crimes.  In a way, watching Cullen and Evie brought some peace to her own lost love opportunity.  Their growing emotions allowed Casandra to let Galyan go and heal her broken heart.  She refused anyone separating the mage and former templar.  Cassandra always thought books could only have a romance like theirs, but she was witnessing it all before her eyes.  Only reality can produce two broken people who could stitch one another back together.  Maybe such a love affair waited for the seeker somewhere, if she let herself love again.

“Who is up for killing a dragon tomorrow?”  Evie exclaimed, clapping her hands once Cassandra and Evie reached the campfire.

Cole hopped a few times.  “Candle!  Burnt and hurt.  He will stitch the gaping wound, heal the pain…”

The other companions just stared at their leader for a few seconds.  Behind Evie, Cassandra eyed them to relax and not place pressure on the mage.  Iron Bull grinned a little.  “Damn right!”  He handed Evie his liquor bottle.  The mage grinned happily, taking the biggest swig ever, receiving a round of applause and whistles.

“I can’t believe I threw a Finale by Massaad into a firepit…”  Evie sighed, glancing at Sera.  The rogue smirked, jumping out of her seat and into her tent.  She emerged holding a semi charred bottle proudly.

“Vivy froze it before it exploded!”  Sera explained, poking the enchantress in the side.  She handed the bottle to the Inquisitor.

“Really?”  Evie exclaimed, glancing at her arch enemy.

The first enchanter shrugged.  “Daring, we all make poor decisions.  Alas, maybe you will share you collection with us sometime.”

Evie glared at everyone.  “ _Maybe…_ Let’s survive this whole mess first!  There is a specific magic darkspawn arsehat that needs a fire mine shoved up his rectum.”

“I agree, Evelyn.  Corypheus must be stopped.” 

All attention shifted to the forest as a bald apostate emerged in the firelight with his staff on his back.  “Solas?!”

The mage bowed, hanging his head at Evie.  “My apologies, Evelyn.  I left your side when you needed me most.”

“I should have not been a complete bitch.”  Evie admitted, pursing her lips together warily.  “Are you doing okay?”

Solas glanced away, hiding his despair and sorrow.  “I laid my head down and slept for a while.  I visited the places in the Fade my friend once lingered.  There was nothing there, but something stirs.  Maybe one day something new will form, but it will most likely not remember me.”  Evie quickly hugged him, both for his loss and her relief he returned.

Evie smirked at the other companions, specifically giving Dorian a hug next.  The necromancer whispered in her ear, “I will strike them down and raise their undead bodies for you.  Just ask, Sunshine.”

The fire mage just giggled and kissed his cheek.  Once Dorian released her from his grasp, her attention shifted to Varric.  The dwarf hung his head, gripping a letter and an envelope.  His hands trembled.  “Varric?  What’s up?”

The writer grimaced, trying to hide the note in his leather trench coat.  “This…isn’t the time, but…”

“Spit it out you!”  Sera snapped.  “There are cards and a purse of copper waiting, innit?!”

Varric handed the letter to Cassandra, while staring Evie in the eye.  “It’s from Hawke…the wardens are practicing blood mage.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did Evie wait too long? We'll have to see. :)
> 
> [1] Cole/Varric random dialogue while playing the game.
> 
> [2] Dorian/Blackwall random dialogue.


	24. Wide Awake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2000 Hits! AHHH!!! Thank you all for reading and coming back to this story. I appreciate the kudos, comments, and feedback! THANK YOU!
> 
> Chapter Song: "Moving On" by Asking Alexandra

“The Inner Circle will leave for the Western Approach day after tomorrow.”  Evie proclaimed, moving map markers across the war table.  “That is why I sent everyone but Cassandra and I back to Skyhold once we received Hawke’s missive.  It will take us nearly a month to reach the desert.  The region is expansive.  According to the Champion and Warden Stroud, they have not narrowed down the blood ritual location, only that the Veil is thin and evidence lays in random old temples.  Hawke explained there are Venatori everywhere, including Calpernia herself, who is overseeing excavating ancient Tevinter temples and collecting artifacts.  This is most likely Corypheus’ backup plan to reach the Black City.  I asked Leliana to send Marius and Tessa ahead with Scout Harding to begin hunting the cultists.  Maybe Rhys and Evangeline might assist us if they have healed from their wounds.  They spent a long time out there too…just have to keep distance between them and Cole.”  The Inquisitor’ voice dimmed as she hung her head.  “We will be gone for at least two months this time.  Let’s use this time in Skyhold wisely.”

“Do you have to leave so quickly, Evelyn?”  Josephine questioned, her eyes showing her worry.  “You just arrived from the Emerald Graves yesterday.  Surely all this travel and work is exasperating your own recovering.”

Evie did not look up from her map maker, sitting it on the western most region of Orlais.  “No.  Blood magic cannot be left alone for too long.  The more demons tearing through the Veil, the more the barrier will weaken.  Hawke would not be so demanding if the situation allowed some rest.  She was in Kirkwall during some of the worst blood magic incidences.  I trust her judgement and would rather act on the side of caution.  If we allow the Grey Wardens resorted to blood magic and Venatori to search for whatnot, the worse it will be when it all falls apart.  I appreciate your concern, but I am doing…better.  Cassandra has been very supportive, and I will continue to rely on her as my second through these trying times.”

Leliana glanced at the Inquisitor, probably studying her behavior.  Evie attempted to hide her shaking and dim eyes with her bangs and gloved hands, but the Nightingale knew the Inquisitor was barely holding herself together.  Leliana was trained to analyze body language.  The mage could not glance at the man across the table.  She did not need to see his grimace and worry now.  Evie had no right to look Cullen in the eye.  She did enough to him to lose his heart.  Evie prayed he followed her suggestion to forget her.  He deserved more than she could ever offer.

“Now that Celene has permitted the Inquisition into Orlais, there will be more nobles and soldiers to assist the Inquisition.  Skyhold and the Western Approach are two-thousand miles apart.  I will make sure proper ties are made with the nearby Orlesian nobility so if supplies diminish or disrupted like in the Exalted Plains, your teams will be still supported in a timely manner.  There will be alternative supporters to assist our fight now.”  Josephine explained, making several notes to herself on her writing board.

“Supply routes have been established and properly protected.  Captain Rylen is half way across the empire already with a contingency of mages, templars, and Inquisition soldiers to meet you once you arrive.  We will need to find and secure a base of operations, especially because there is such a long distance between the region and Skyhold.”  Cullen advised.  His gloved hand appeared in Evie’s sight as he moved his tokens across the main travel route to the Approach.  “Furthermore, Leliana and I studied the red lyrium trade routes to narrow Samson’s main supply, based on the recovered letters from the Emerald Graves.  Now that the Inquisition has disrupted mining in Ferelden through our cooperation with the king’s army, the red templars have moved their operation to somewhere in Orlais.  Alas, we do not know where the main force is stationed at the moment.  Thousands of red templars disappeared after Haven.  We are working on uncovering the army’s whereabouts.”

“We were successful in tricking the red tempars to think the Freeman of the Dales were requesting new orders despite removing the deserters’ leaders.  Well done, Evie, in tricking and killing Carroll.[1]  It is one less officer Samson has in his cabinet.”  Leliana clapped a few times.  It did not urge Evie to raise her head from the map. 

“We must take our success wherever we can.”  The ambassador smiled, trying to lighten the mood in the War Room.

Cullen sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.  “I knew him once.  Lyrium mudded his mind.  To see him fall so low…”

The advisors remained silent for a few moments.  Josephine’s smile quickly disappeared.  Evie’s bland eyes never left the map, but her facial expressions demonstrated she mourned for Cullen’s losses.  Many of these templars were his past associates, good friends lost to Samson’s lies and tricks.

Once everyone relaxed, Leliana continued with her report.  “Calpernia and the memory crystal have been more difficult.  Dagna successfully developed a way to have the crystal transmit to us, but my spies cannot pen point the former slave’s location in the Approach to plant the crystal and listen.”

“Give it to me.”  Evie called, moving one of Leliana’s pieces to the Approach location on the map.  “I will see if we receive such opportunity in the desert.  If she is there, based on sightings, it won’t be long before we meet.  Keep your focus on Samson in the east.  He might take this opportunity while I am away to strike the Inquisition.  We are fighting a two-front war now.  To stop the red templars and save the Grey Wardens, we must work together as a fluid team.  Once Cassandra and I develop a permanent presence in the desert, we will have an exact map as this there so, through crow missives, we can report and move operations as if I was present.  It is like a mail-based chess game, just used to fight an ancient magister.”

Evie regretted using that analogy during the meeting.  She closed her eyes, burying the feelings that rose up inside to keep her blank persona to her advisors.  A few people giggled, but he did not.  It must have hurt him as much as her.

“Let us conclude this meeting.”  Evie sighed, leaning back and arching her spine.  “We will reconvene tomorrow with any updates, then Cassandra and I will leave the next morning.  In that time, I will rest and prepare.  Please bring only life threatening alerts to my attention.  I must make sure my comrades and everyone in Skyhold is ready-“

“-What of you?”

Cullen spoke directly to her.  His soft, gentle speech almost tore out her heart.  Evie turned towards the double doors.  “I will survive.  I must.”  Before any more could be said, Evie left the meeting for her tower, wishing to disappear like she had the last three months.

 

* * *

 

The spring night came quickly, darkening Evie’s tower.  Only a few candles illuminated the far walls and the small fire in the fireplace gave enough warmth for Evie’s bath.  From the large copper tub, the mage could glance outside and stare at the stars twinkling above the mountains.  It was a new moon, so Skyhold was shrouded in darkness. 

Every so often, Evie’s dull green eyes glanced up to the small catwalk above her Free March canopy bed.  The ravens kept turning their heads and staring at her like little perverts while she lounged in the water.  Evie named them Mees and Nair, anagrams of Rian and Esme.  Both male birds refused to stay in their cages in the Rookery, nesting in Evie’s tower.  Leliana informed her the birds were trained as messengers, but refused to cooperate with her agents.  The spymaster noted they responded well to Evie.  Maybe they might become her own personal carriers.

“When I told my brothers to leave me in the snowstorm, they just possessed you two, huh.”  Evie grimaced, tilting her head back to watching the ravens bounce around on the banister.  “Just don’t poop on my shit…”  Her gaze shifted to her bed where a chocolate nug slept on the Highever comforter.  “That means you too…”

Of all things Evie could have brought back from the Emerald Graves was that damn nug.  She hated those weird bunny rabbit moles, but this one climbed into her saddlebag and stayed there until she arrived back in Skyhold.  It followed her everywhere, squeaking every time the mage ignored it.  Leliana fell in love with the rat as soon as it made its grand appearance yesterday evening.  The spymaster begged Evie to keep it.  The Inquisitor reluctantly agreed.  It would stay with Leliana while Evie was gone, but it seem like it preferred her company when she was present.

“One turd on my pillow, and my next hood will be made out of your skin.”  The mage hissed at the sleeping animal.  It just twitched its nose in its blissful sleep.  “I’m not naming you… _Well_ …You and Griffon got along well, if you stowaway in my saddle bag without him reacting.  The horse is going to be lonely since I’m not bringing him to the Approach.  He’s a mountain and forest horse.  Sand will not treat him well.  I could take the Taslin Strider gifted from Antiva.  It does well in long distances and hot climates.  I’m interested in the Hunter Shade Dracolisk, but a cross-country ride might not be the best time to test its nature…Ugh, I am just avoiding what I _should_ be thinking about.”  She sunk down in the tub with her mouth just below the water to make bubbles in frustration.  “Well, maybe…Truffles?”  The mage sighed, reluctantly accepting a new pet.  Maybe she could train it to piss on Patricia the next time she sees the Orlesian whore.

Evie’s mind return to her locked emotions behind her heart’s massive wall sealed with an imaginary, complex key.  Ever since their interruption on the battlements, Evie ignored Cullen’s confession and what it could be mean for them.  After everything that happened in the Exalted Plains and with the Inner Circle, Evie concluded that Cullen was best without her.

Yet, Cassandra’s declarations and pressed urges were eating at the stone walls like corrosive acid.  Everything in her mind kept reminding her how weak she became afterwards.  Cullen protected her when she could not cast.  The mark refused to respond.  She did not hear the Fade since the mental wall was built.  Her lone violin was missing.  When Hawke was in Skyhold, Evie prayed the Fade would leave her.  Now that she blocked out her emotions, it was gone.

Evie felt like chunks for her personality were missing, scooped out with a ladle and dumped out all over the filthy floor so everyone could stomp all over it.  She did it to herself.  She believed she could not be with him, so she tossed out anything that disconnected her from her duty.  What remained was a demanding, unfeeling bitch like Vivienne.  Once she started detoxing from the red lyrium, Evie witnessed what her Inquisitor persona could do without her humanity.  The guilt burdened the mage further until the darkness swallowed her even now.

Evie dunked her head under the tub water.  She held her breath and opened her eyes, staring up at the blurred ceiling through the clear waves.  Her auburn hair swirled around her like an octopus.  She was no longer losing chunks of hair, but it was dull and dry.  She disliked touching it.  She detested herself.

The fire mage’s head rose to the surface.  She took a deep breath, pushing her wet hair out of her face.  Once settled again, she reached over the tub side for a new bar of clove and orange soap.  She added orange oil to the water so it could absorb into her skin.  It was dry from months in the field.  She did not take care for herself.  She barely ate, losing muscle tone and lean fat.  She was skin and bones as the soap rubbed her legs to her feet.  New scars lingered on her skin.  Evie did not heal herself in time.

This bout of depression had left its mark.

Evie sighed, dropping the soap into the water and bringing her knees to her chest.  She hugged them closely as she rested her forehead on top.  She was such a fool.  She allowed the depression to make her a monster.  It did not take an envy demon or Corypheus to drop her down to her knees and give up.  She did it all to herself, and everyone else paid the price.  All those Inquisition soldiers were dead, many others would never fight again.  She lost her comrades’ belief in her.  It would take possibly years to earn it back.

Evie made herself alone.  She isolated herself from everyone.

“All you have to do is let _him_ in.”  Evie whispered to herself.  That was easier said than done.

The anxiety just from that thought almost caused Evie to purge into the bath water.  She reached between her breast, finding her signet ring first, then the amber stone.  A new object hung from the chain, the silver thimble from the Trevelyan puzzle box.  Evie left it in Skyhold on accident during her long expedition, her little toy that she used to distract herself from all the pressure.  Harritt drilled a hole on top and strung a wire so it could be attached to the chain.  Esme would be with her along with Cullen.

So intertwined.

A spark awoke Evie’s internal candle.

That single thought allowed the walls to tumble down inside.

Tears automatically poured from her glowing eyes.  Evie missed that Fereldan knight desperately.  It felt like ages since she smelled his campfire, lavender, and sage scent.  She turned off her sense of smell to avoid it.  Her ears craved the husky Fereldan growl with a bit of Free Marcher lilt because she blocked out all sound.  Her lips wondered what part of that liquor was the drink and his from sharing the bottle on the mountain pass.  Her skin crawled, wishing to touch his stubble neck and jaw again as she laid her head on his shoulder.  Most of all, her eyes reached out to see his smiling face when she sassed and pushed him during chess.

The Fade washed over Evie like the stormy Waking Sea.  Her body arched in the bath.  Her magic poured into her like a waterfall, leaving her gasping for air.  The Anchor sparked and glowed under the water.  Her green eyes glimmered and pulsed in unison with the mark, burning and electrifying her veins with willpower and mana.  Evie shimmered to life.  The candle within her burned brightly was all her senses remembered Cullen’s effect on her.  She was thirsty for him, needing to drink him, _lick_ him up for ages to have her fill.  She denied herself that golden lyrium for so long she nearly died. 

A long violin cried out from the abyss.  Its solo was so quiet, but Evie heard it.  Knowing her violin returned, she reached out her hand and listened.  A wave of music filled her soul.  Everyone’s instrument was accounted for.  Yet, his piano was very low like her violin.  Both were out of tune and wavered.  How could she fix them both?  How could she hear his sweet music again in the Fade?”

“Go to him.”

Evie glanced around the loft, wondering where the voice called from.  Her green eyes flickered to the ravens, but they flew away during her awakening.  The nug was sound asleep on the bed.  Then, the fire mage realized it.  She smirked, shaking her head.  Of course Cole would want help.  She pushed him away too.  He could not hear her, see her in the Fade for so long.  Her awakening called him there.

Evie knew now what she needed to do.  She grabbed her soap again and scrubbed quickly.  With each glance over with the soap, the depression disappeared.  Her violin intensified.  The water started to grow cold, she waved her hand.  Instantly, it steamed.  She has not been able to cast with ease for months.  She returned to cleaning her body, smiling at her scars, her badges of honor.  There was still doubt there he may reject her.  However, he cared for _her_.  Cullen thought about her all the time.  The scars were a part of her.

Bubbles popped in Evie’s hair as she washed the strains.  The curls and waves twisted around her hands like ribbons, feeling healthy and sooth like every other part of her at that moment.  She dunked her head a few times to wash the lather away.  The auburn luster returned with each dunk.  Evie felt like the night in Redcliffe when she cleaned the monster’s blood away. She was rinsing away the depression, her interior barriers.

Evie felt alive.

The fire mage’s mind twirled as she gripped a nearby towel and stood up in the bath, allowing the water to run down her sun kissed skin.  She wanted to dance.  The act was so difficult for the last months.  She wished she did not need to leave so quickly for the Approach.  She wished to explore her secret library.  The dragon skulls from the Exalted Plains and the Emerald Graves were probably set in her small hall to admire and ogle.

Cullen and Evie were so intertwined. 

Just like her magic could not be summoned without her dancing, the mage could not contain mana or hear the Fade without her emotions.  Her emotions were all tied to him because he liked who she was.  He liked her witty comments and abrasive temper.  He challenged her when she stood strong and soothed her when she was weak. 

Evie wondered if that depression was similar to what tranquility is like.  No feeling, no connection to anything.  It was so isolating.  She should spend more time with those fallen mages.  They might not feel the bounds to the Fade, but she could help them somehow.  Maya the Healer would be first person she will contact.  She seemed the most likely responsive tranquil in Evie’s company.  In the morning, the Inquisitor would write the Council of Mages to see about reversing tranquility.  It was time to address that elephant in the room.

The fire mage stepped out of the bath, resurrected from the darkest holes within herself.  Her candle brightened all the corners of her mind, body, and soul.  Evie had to see him, fill herself up with Cullen that she denied for months.  Hair still dripping wet and body soaked, Evie wrapped herself in a towel and raced to her wardrobe for some clothes.  Each second away from the handsome ex-templar felt like a lifetime.  She was wasting time.  She would be leaving in a little over a day.  Evie could only survive if she spent every waking moment with him, in his arms.

“What should I wear, Cole?”  Evie panicked, throwing clothes out of the closet like fireballs.  “What if he doesn’t want to see me?  Is he even awake?!”

Evie burst out of the closet, holding the towel with one hand.  She raced to her side balcony, glancing through the stain glass towards the central tower.  Through that damn hole in the side, a single candle light shined her direction.  Evie reached out through the Fade.  His piano was still out of tune and small.  It would be stronger if he was dreaming.  He was still awake, most likely working on stupid paperwork she assigned him.  She was such an idiot.

“ _Light.  Free.  She held no fears wearing her linen tunic, tied below her breasts.  Her scabbard hung off her hips, accenting how the tan pants cupped her curves._ ” Cole appeared on her bed, poking Truffle in the side.  The nug never woke.  “ _The leather jacket hung loosely from her shoulders.  She was free then._ ”

Evie grinned, glancing over to the bed.  “So, my training outfit then?”

“He says you looked alive then.  The fighter he knew existed inside you.  I agree.”  The strange boy whimpered from under his hat.  “Do not worry.  I was not looking while you bathed.  The brothers told me to look away.”

Evie giggled, hopping about and almost losing her towel around her breasts.  She dashed to her dresser. Pulling out her light tan tight pants and linen tunic.  From her closet, she retrieved her leather jacket and knee high boots.

“What makeup now-“

“ _So natural…her freckles accent her cheekbones.  Why does she hide her eyes behind all that kohl?_ ”  Cole sang, touching the tips of Truffles’ ears.

Evie took a breath.  He likes no makeup?  He thinks Evie hides behind it.  The fire mage wore makeup, specifically kohl, to give her an air of mystery and untamed nature.  It kept people away from getting too close.  Cullen wanted to see _her_ , the raw and broken Evie.  Maker’s breath, she did not deserve this man!

“Yes, you do, Candle.”  Cole glanced up at Evie’s glimmering eyes.  “He makes you happy.  Cullen reignites your light inside.  You make him chuckle.  He misses laughing.”

“I will make him laugh until my last breath…”  Evie vowed, staring back at the spirit.  Evie smiled while shaking.  She missed hearing the spirit’s gong everywhere she walked.  “Thank you, Cole.”

“I hoped I helped.”

“You did…and I’m sorry for leaving you.”  Evie watched him disappear.  She dropped the towel to start dressing.

Evie prayed she was not too late.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] From War Table Operation, “Draw Out the Red Templar Lieutenant.”
> 
> The final part chapter this Friday! XD!


	25. Strayed Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song: "Paradise" by Coldplay (The playlist is done and on Spotify under the name 'Andraste's Fire, Inquisitor's Light'! Check it out!)
> 
> The last chapter for "Andraster's Fire, Inquisitor's Light!" I hope you enjoy it! Please overlook any grammar issues. I added some details today, but I am sick with the flu and probably missed several things. I will review it again when I am not dying.
> 
> Story utilizes existing events and conversations from Dragon Age: Inquisition, all owned by Bioware and EA

Evie forced herself to slow her run to a power walk once she emerged out of her tower.  As her tower door creaked close, the sound echoed off the castle’s walls like it was a long forgotten tomb.  She glanced around the grand hall, noticing it was devoid of people that late evening.  Since her announcement to leave for the Western Approach, Skyhold scrambled to prepare for the next long expedition so soon after the Inner Circle’s return.  In the past, the Inquisition prepared over a few weeks, but Hawke’s urgent need for assistance limited turnaround time.

The mage contemplated which route would take her to her ultimate goal quicker: the atrium or walking around the battlements to reach Cullen’s central tower.  She definitely did not want to be seen by anyone.  She barely dressed, especially to impress any delegates or nobles.  Her pants were on and fastened, but she kept struggling with her belt buckle.  She threw on her tunic, but forewent a breast band and did not tie the front like she did that sparring practice.  It remained untucked and baggy around her waist.  Her boots were not tied, slamming loosely against the stone floor with each step.  Her auburn hair was still dripping with water and dampening her tunic’s shoulders.  She barely got one arm into her jacket sleeve.  Actually, Evie did not give a damn what any of them thought after months of placing a role that nearly destroyed the order she help build.  She only just got her heart and soul back and will not allow them to rob her again.

Maybe Evie should slow down and finish getting dressed.  She did not want Cullen thinking she was a madwoman.  The mage snuck into the atrium and looked around.  Solas was not present, probably napping in some corner of Skyhold, Fade-walking.  She glanced up to the Rookery’s second and third floors.  Only a few minor people remained, but most had vacated the area for the night.  Even the crows and ravens sat silent in their cages.  Most of her companions were probably enjoying a relaxing night in the tavern, regaining their breath before they trekked into the desert.

Evie sat down on Solas’s reclining sofa and tied and buckled her knee-high leather boots.  The adrenaline waned the longer it took her to reach the tower, allowing the anxiety and darkness to encroach her brightened candle.  What if he had moved on?  She had not seen him in two weeks.  She avoided looking at the man during the advisors meeting earlier.  Cassandra would not know if he found someone else while they were in the Emerald Graves.  He might have concluded the relationship was unlikely because of their stations and her stupid actions.

The mage pushed the depression’s doubts aside.  Cullen did not change on a whim.  He was a man of duty and action.  Once he started something he would not stop, even if everything looked hopeless.  He storming Redcliffe Castle repeatedly in that horrible future was a prime example of his focused actions and dedication.  It did not mean he would be excited to see her.  The commander might give her the cold shoulder like she did their last several encounters.  Evie had reasons for being so elusive then, and yet she still regretted her actions, wishing she could turn back the clock to smack herself in the face.

Once her first boot was tied and buckled, Evie’s attention turned to the other.  Was this even a good idea?  She was leaving for the Western Approach the day after tomorrow.  Starting a relationship with someone and then being gone for over two months might destroy it before it took off.  The lonesomeness might be too much for her alone.  Imagine what Cullen will experience here in Skyhold, especially if someone discovers they were seen together so late in the evening alone in his tower.

The Inquisitor push the stress back again with more mental thrust.  Evie has been in Cullen’s tower this late before, asking questions and getting his advice on pending operations.  She slept there that night after Fenris tried to kill her.  People were going to gossip no matter what she and the others do.  It was the same thing as her family harming anyone she cared about.  It would happen one way or another.  Evie should not let them get between her and happiness.

Evie jumped to her feet, flatting and pulling her wrinkled clothes with her hands.  Regarding the Western Approach, being separated from Cullen will hurt, but saying nothing and pulling herself in so many directions would destroy yet another serious mission.  The Orlesian ceasefire was a small torch compared to the conflagration of blood magic and Grey Wardens’ matters waiting in the desert.  Evie needed to be one with herself.  She could not delay her admission for that long.  Everyone counted on _her_ , not her Inquisitor persona.  Too many suffered already for her lapse in judgement.

The mage’s leather jacket now slid over her shoulders easily now that she dressed properly.  She pulled her tunic down, but did not tuck it into her pants or tying it like the swordsmanship lesson.  She avoided tying the drawstrings around the neck, needing the extra wiggle room for her anxious nerves.  Sweat rolled down from her temple, while her breathing turned to panting.  She could not stop shaking, while her balance suffered from dizziness.  The atrium’s mural walls moved and swirled around her like the rough Waking Sea.   Evie was an absolute mess.

Did Cullen experience this when he confessed to her?  And _The Inquisitor_ stupidly rejected him and allowed _Evie_ to disappear for two months.  Damn, she was a worse bitch than Madame de Turd.  She was unworthy of that man’s affections, _if_ Cullen even still had romantic feelings towards her again.  Evie was so absorbed in her own sorrow and depression that she never considered how Cullen might have felt afterwards.  The woman left him not once, but _twice_ standing alone calling her to reconsider.  He wanted to save her for herself and the crowded world.  The commander stood alone with no one to confided in or help figure out the mess.  She knew he had friends, but rarely spoke to anyone regarding himself.  He held all that inside without saying a word.  He allowed himself to be abused by her when she was sick with red lyrium.  He stayed by her side at basecamp, for Maker’s sake!

“I must make this right…” the mage swore to herself.  She strengthened her back, rolled her shoulders, and threw her damp hair out of her face.  The ends curled and puffing outward, being its untamed natural self.  She should dry it with a warming spell, but she just needed to see him.  She needed to hear his delicious voice.  Evie needed to apologize and beg forgiveness.  She will openly state her true feelings to the man who brightened her life and care for with all her heart.

Evie shoved the atrium’s reinforced door open and marched across the long central bridge to the commander’s tower.  With each step, her heart ached like someone was electrocuting her.  The mage wanted to purge over the stone wall.  Her shaking intensified to the point her hand kept tapping her thigh.  The anxiety overcame all her willpower and strength, yet she forced herself forward.  Fear will not rule Evie from this potential grand moment…or epic disaster.  Would she knock on the door?  Would it be unlocked?  Maybe Cullen is meeting with his officers?  Maybe he went to bed while she debated within herself moments ago?

Evie counted the ten stairs up to Cullen’s door.  She would just push it open, step through the threshold, and slam it close.  She might look like the largest fool if it was locked, if he was meeting with his officers, or if he went to bed.  She needed to feel like a fool because she _was_ Thedas’ greatest fool.  ‘Foolhardy Arrogance’ Cassandra declared so many months ago.  Evie acted like a druffalo’s massive ass all this time.  She should have just told him everything when she had a chance: after Haven, after meeting Hawke, during chess, and especially on the battlements.

Evie’s marked hand grasped the door ring and pushed.  The door swung open easily.  It was not locked, both damn and thank the Maker.  She kept her bright green eyes tightly shut, walked in, and slammed it closed.  Her whole body weight pressed against the reinforced hardwood and iron door.  The force flung her damp hair over her shoulder and into her face.  The mage panted quickly and struggled to catch her breath.  Her eyes remained closed with so much force her eyes watered.  She could not bear seeing him, her fear and anxious controlled her every move.

“Inquisitor-“  One word—that same title she had grown to hate—lifted her eyelids and those dyed bright green eyes gazed at the voice’s owner like an enchanted spell was finally broken. 

Maker’s breath, how Evie missed that man.

Cullen was thankfully alone, jumping to his feet seeing her pushing his desk chair out from underneath him.  Very few torches burned on the tower walls and a single candle sat beside his mounds of papers and books.  The lack of lighting gave the office a cold, empty effect, but Cullen’s face was still visible.  An empty tray with a pewter mug and pottery bowl laid to the side, nearly falling in his shuffle.  He did not go to dinner as usual and probably grabbed a quick bowl of stew and a mug of ale from the kitchens after the servants retired.  He still wore his heavy breastplate, pauldrons, and greaves.  The Fereldan bear mantle coat laid untied around his waist, barely hanging onto his hunched shoulders and sore arms.  The commander removed his signature templar gauntlets sometime during his work, the same gloved armor that told Evie nearly six months ago she spoke to a templar when she met the knight.  His callused fingertips were stained with ink from writing missives and edicts, showing the continuous years of physical and mental practice and conditioning.

Evie just stared at Cullen’s face like she never saw him before, her mouth gapping and analyzing all she missed.  He looked absolutely exhausted.  Dark black and purple circles encircled his blood slot amber eyes.  His once strong and defining cheekbones and cheeks were sunken in and ghostly pale.  His lips almost devoid of color.  His blond wavy hair was unkempt, probably from him running his hands through it, one of his signature nervous habits.  Its untamed natured hinted its presence around his ears and beside his temples, curling just a bit to highlight his sickly skin.  A bit of ink smeared across his nose from pinching the bridge too many times with his indigo-dyed hands. 

The mage knew she caused this anguish and torment.  The Maker himself should strike her down.  Only her life will heal this broken and beaten man.  Cullen worried about her.  He admitted that ao many times.  With her so unwell in the Plains and aloft elsewhere, he must have never slept or taken care of himself.  His lyrium withdrawal physically, mentally, and emotionally wore at him until he looked like he was ready to roll over and die.  Evie slowly killed this wonderful and handsome man with her moronic stupidity.

“Is there something you need?”  His voice was still that husky, warm sound, although rough and raspy from fatigue, shouting commands, and overwork.  Evie did not realize it but she stood there staring at him for over a minute without saying a word, gapping like a fish in his present.  She drank him up like he was a fine wine that she allowed to spoil, but he was still so handsome and intoxicating.  The mage barely took a breath, while raking herself over the coals for causing so much pain to a man who experienced too many horrific deeds already.

“No…”  Evie whimpered, shaking her head several times.  Her damp bangs batted her red sticky cheeks.  “I-I…”  _For Maker’s arse woman, say it before you set yourself on fire!_   “L-listen.  I have been the biggest arsehole in Thedas.  The crimes I have done to the Inquisition…I-I will be repaying them with every breath now until I die-“

“Inquisitor, I-“  Cullen ran his hand through his unruly hair, then rubbed his neck several times.  His focus floundered to his desk like it distressed him to struggle against her apology.  There was little fight left inside the commander.

“-Please!”  Evie held out both hands with pleading eyes, waving frantically.  “Call me Eve… _please_?”

Immediately, Cullen glanced up and stared at her with glassy, hopeful orbs.  Evie had his full attention now as his chapped lips parted and his alluring amber eyes burned into hers.  She prayed he could see her own bright green shimmer now.  She hoped the dark dullness disappeared from their swirling dyed color.  Evie hated she could never play a game of Wicked Graces because everyone saw her facial expressions.  But now, she would never regret her emotions written across her cheeks if it meant Cullen _understood_.

The commander waved for her to continue.  “O-of course…Eve.”  The sound of her special name ignited the mage with hope and determination.  The anxiety quickly waned and returned the adrenaline she possessed after her bath.

Evie swallowed hard, visibly showing the action in her slender throat.  Her swimming mind blanked.  No words ventured to her tongue.  The mage banged her head against the door several times, harder each swing until words poured from her lips.  “I made the worst mistake of my life, turning away from you that day on the battlements.  I don’t know anything about romantically caring about someone.  It is easy to assume love is easy and natural with family because you are blood related and _must_ love them.  When I was told I would marry Rian when I turned eighteen, I accepted my fate.  I was just a little noble girl.  I didn’t understand the gravity of the world and what that meant to my future.  Then my magic manifested…Rian died…I never thought I could find my own personal happiness, unbound by expectations and social rules.  The Circles were the worst examples of romance, fucking in dark corners and whatnot.  Smutty books gave a false pretense.  You must forgive me for not recognizing how special what we share truly is and can be.  We have been so intertwined for _years_ , small stitches of embroidery in an abusive and sorrowful tapestry until we finally met.  Everything has gone wrong.  It still can, but I will try to navigate all the bullshit just to be with you.  Please, give me another chance.  I need you, Cullen.  I understand if you have changed your mind or I have pushed you away too many times, but I must tell you…I am falling for you so deeply that it scares me.”

The words fell out Evie’s mouth before she realized it.  Did any of that make sense?  Was this all in vain?  She searched the commander’s pale face for a confirmation and yet he just stared at her like he still waited for her to speak.  Evie started to panic.  What did she misunderstand?  Did she not say it right?  Probably.  She always ruins happiness.

After a long moment with tears flowing from her glistening bright green eyes, Cullen circled around his new writing desk and marched right up to her.  His expression had not changed.  That stolid templar focused on her with no clear intent.  Evie prepared herself to pull the door open and run away.  Her marked hand grasped the door ring.  Right as she stepped outwards to leave, Cullen’s left hand grasped her right bicep and pulled her towards him.  His right hand lifted her teary chin.  One moment, Evie was about to run away.  The next, his lips met hers.

Evie had never been properly kissed.  Young girl apprentices practiced on one another during sleepless nights.  She never experienced passion, so the sensation was all terribly new and petrifying, but she wanted to feel that rush for as long as she drew breath.  She felt like the first time she received a Satinalia gift.  She tore at the intricate parchment seams, digging through the wrapping to see what was inside; the thrill and excitement when you realize you got what you always wanted and needed.

Cullen’s lips were still chapped like when he kissed her forehead months ago, but they soon softened as they moved over hers.  His grasp remained strong and tight against her right bicep until she lifted her arm to curl it around his tensed neck.  Her cool hand ran up his neck and dug into his majestic mane.  It was silky against her palm and fingertips, curling and twisting around each digit.  Her other arm rested on the small of his back, partly pressing him against her.  Both of his muscular limbs wrapped around her like so many times before, cocooning her in warmth and comfort.  His bold tongue edged her soft lips open.  She welcomed it, allowing it to slip into her mouth.  Evie _finally_ tasted him.  Her imagination from sharing the liquor bottle was completely wrong.  He tasted like spiced honey mead, refreshing, rugged, and sweet.  Evie never liked the taste of mead until right then when she finally sampled how it should be consumed, pressed to his lips directly from this amazing man.  Now, she might only drink the fermented bee sugar and leave her tequila behind. 

Cullen tried to pull away a few times, timid and shy most likely afraid he overstepped his bounds.  Evie would just push his head back into hers, standing on her toes to reach him more.  She decided to be bold or go home, taking and giving so much from this first kiss she yearned for as long as she could remember.  He responded instantly, pulling her closer to his body until her unbound breasts were penned against his breastplate tightly.  The mage belonged in this embrace like she needed air.  Evie knew her falling tears were intensifying, streaming down her face like waterfalls.  The difference between all the moments before and now was that she was blissfully happy and relieved.  The heartache and anxiety completely disappeared as she was engulfed in his clinch and kiss.  Their first kiss told her everything:  I still care.  I need you too.  Thank the Maker I found you.

Finally, Evie released her tight grip on his neck and lowered herself down so her boots were flat on the ground.  Once again, Evie’s shorter height caused her to point her chin upwards.  Her face remained upward as his lips left hers.  Suddenly, Evie felt bitterly cold without him enrapturing her whole being.  She fought the urge to jump up and kiss him again to push away the chill.  Instead, she opened her tear-filled glowing eyes to gaze up at the man that placed such a large smile on her face.  Evie was so calm and beaming that the Anchor glowed but caused no pain or shocks like the day she sealed the Breach.

Cullen’s transformed face was bright red, bashful like Evie just caught him stealing from the cookie jar.  Yet, his amber eyes sang, alight by her confession and their shared first kiss.  His lips were no longer devoid of color, but dark blood red.  The dark circles lessened with each moment in each other’s embrace, probably as the anguish he experienced alone faded away.  The commander looked alive and healthy again like he never took lyrium.  Evie allowed her right hand to slide down his neck until it cradled his jaw.  His stubble was long after days of constantly working.  Her gentle, soothing touch caused the commander to shudder and focus fully on the woman finally in his arms.

“I’m sorry…that was…um…really nice…”  Cullen mumbled, tongue tied like a young adolescent.  As soon as he said it, he winced, letting his forehead fall the few inches to meet hers.  “Maker’s breath…”

Evie giggled, gripping his breastplate firmly with her left hand and rubbing her right thumb against his blushing cheek.  “I believe that was a kiss.  But I can’t be sure.  It’s all a blur.”  Her voice was playful and giddy, causing him to lift his head again and gaze down at her.

“Well…”  He chuckled, shaking his head.  “I should have done that sooner.  I should have never let you go.  I regret not tossing that idiot runner over the ramparts.”

“Varric said he was going to have a word with Jimmy.”  Evie explained, getting a strange look from the commander.  “I can’t say it won’t happen again, but maybe the boy will get the hint.”

“ _That’s_ his name!”  Cullen realized, snapping his fingers and nodding his head at the realization.  “I knew it was something like that.”

“Wait.  You didn’t know?”  Evie quizzed, smirking a little.  “Isn’t he your personal runner?”

“Rylen assigned him to me once the captain threatened to launch him out of a trebuchet in Haven.”  Cullen growled.  “I just put up with his idiocy…”

“Down boy…”  Evie poked his breastplate. 

Cullen just rolled his shimmering amber eyes.  “The joke’s stale, Eve.  Everyone except Sera has stopped because it’s grown boring, with great praise from me actually.”

“I guess I will have to find which animal you are like next.”  Evie’s tone had a mischievous lilt.

He chuckled deep in his diagram, that beautiful invigorating sound that always brightened her soul.  “Yes, perhaps….you little minx.”

Before Evie could respond, Cullen pulled her even closer to him for another kiss.  This one was more intensive as the last, raising a few moans from the mage.  Suddenly, Evie was sweating, heating raising up in her as she realized she could not get closer.  Evie grasped both sides of his head as he lifted her up and away from the door.  He twirled her around a few times, causing her to giggle against their lips and hold on tightly.  After a few turns, he let her down, her bottom pressed against his desk.

Evie stared Cullen in the eye, drawn to their fascinating color like her amber focus stone.  The stone would never be that majestic.  Flakes of gold shimmered around his pupils.  She never noticed it before.  He rubbed her cheeks with his free hand, breaking the streams of tears that were still falling. 

He winced again.  “Maker!  The ink!”

Evie laughed, pecking his swollen lips quickly.  “Cullen, you have it all over your nose.”

“Maker’s breath…”  He muttered, trying to wipe the ink away from his nose with his coat sleeve.  “You could have said something.”

“My mouth’s been preoccupied with more _important_ things…”

Cullen sighed, smirking.  “Yes, well…I’ve missed you.  Your wit, your ability to make me laugh, your beautiful eyes…I had all but given up.”

“I’m so sorry…”  Evie hung her head, allowing her arms to drop from his neck, down his breastplate, to her sides.  Her legs supported her as she leaned against the desk, allowing some space between them.  “I thought I was doing the right thing.  I did what everyone thought I needed to do and almost ruined the Inquisition.  It took Cassandra to remind me that I was made Inquisitor because of what _I_ did, not what was expected.  I wandered lost for so long…I didn’t know how to feel.  Yet, one thought of you and everything poured over me.  My magic is tied to you now, I think.  I feel I can control the mark and cast a thousand spells if it meant I could see you again.  You’re my special lyrium…golden and uplifting.  You’re my genuine smile, Cullen.”

“It’s interesting you say that.”  Cullen began, grinning a little down at her.  “You lessen the withdraw symptoms.  I did not realize it until you were away in Crestwood, but when I’m near you, I don’t suffer from migraines or shake.  I’m clear minded and healthy.”

“What is going to happen when I leave for the Approach?”  Evie’s voice crackled.  Anxiety welled up inside her again.

“We’ll see, but I am not letting you leave without telling you that I’m scared about all of this too, but I want to be with you…”  Cullen admitted, cupping her cheek with his left hand.  “Yet…The things I have done, Eve.  I fear when it’s time to tell you, I’ll lose you.  I joined the Inquisition to atone for my mistakes and never imagined finding someone like you here.  You brighten a part of me that I thought died a long time ago.”

Evie glanced away, taking a deep breath.  She stilled herself, choosing her words carefully before looking at him again.  “We both have secrets, painful experiences that neither one of us want to share now, but maybe in the future.  Let’s take this slow and one step at a time.  This is all new.  You know I don’t trust easily, but I trust _you_.  It will take time for me to relax.  It’s probably the same for you, so let’s more at a slow pace.  No need to rush everything.”

“I agree.”  Cullen pressed his forehead to hers, his smiling growing each moment holding her.  They rubbed noses together, much like a simple kiss of its own.  “Of course.”

Evie bit her lower lip, knowing the former knight needed to be aware of her other great fear.  Even though Cullen assured her in the past, Evie needed to know now what he thought.  The mage lifted her head back, pursing her lips tightly, stilling herself for possible rejection.  She slipped off her leather jacket, thankful to be rid of it actually.  She was burning up, aroused and pining for the man behind so many layers of leather and metal.  His last kiss almost caused her to set the room on fire to express how it made her feel.  He ignited her sexuality so easily, but it must be tamed to avoid missteps.

This might end it all here.  Evie had to know.  “There is one last thing.”  She slipped her tunic neck seam down over her shoulder to expose the first notable scars.  “I am not…pretty under these clothes.  The lashings and…other events in my life have…permanently disfigured my body.  I hide it all as best as possible, but-“

“-I know about your scars, Eve.”

Evie’s bright green eyes widened, surprised and alarmed.  “How…?  Did the healers-“

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck repeatedly, turning a dark shade of red.  “I might have…seen you before.”

Evie eyed him closely, tilting her head to study his timid behavior.  “What…?  Seen me… _how_?”

Cullen sighed, his hand falling from his neck and rested on her exposed shoulder.  Instead of his cheeks, Cullen’s full face and neck burned bright red.  Even his ears shaded to a dark red rose tint.  “I knew I should have just…but I couldn’t so I…In the Hinterlands, I took a walk after arguing with Master Dennet to join the Inquisition.  I-I found a small brook…that led to a small pond by a waterfall…”  He bit his lip, squeezing his eyes tightly shut and squirming a little.  “I might have seen you…bathing.”  His eyelids flew open to read her reaction.

Evie just blinked a few times.  Apparently whatever her facial expression was, it sent him into a panic.  His words raced out of his mouth at a pace that he could barely pronounce each syllable.  “It not I saw everything.  I mean, I did, but not really.  I-I did not realize it until it was too late and then I saw your scars and wonder, ‘What happened to her?  What did she do that was so terrible to abuse her like that?!’  Then you told me later, and…I’m sorry.  I know I should have just left, but I couldn’t look away.  You were…a-angelic.”

Evie continued to blink, gazing up at the bashful, shuddering commander.  He acted like an innocent Chantry boy caught sinning while singing the Chant.  Something about his insecurity ignited a dark impulse inside her, to allure him farther from his templar restraint and release his curiosity and inner primal being. 

Evie could not help herself, smirking wickedly.  “You pervert.”

“Maker’s breath, Eve!”  Cullen whined, hanging his head and pinching his nose bridge.   Evie burst out laughing, smacking his pauldron as he turn a dark shade of purple.  The more he tried to hide his face or pull on his chin, the more Evie laughed.

After a few minutes, Cullen just glared at her to quit.  The mage just cackled, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him closer.  His hands rested on her hips.  “I think seeing them up close might be a little off putting, but somehow your peeping-tom mischief actually somewhat lessened my worry.  I know I am not gorgeous.  People stare when they see the scars, but I needed you to know...”

“Do they still…hurt?”

Evie bit her bottom lip.  “Most don’t.  The nerves are compacted under layers of scar tissue.  The ones on my back…because they poured rejuvenation potions to seal the wounds, it meant there is no scar tissue per say, only raised light skin from the lashes.  The nerves are near the surface, so I feel more than I should.”  A bit of sexuality rose inside Evie, encouraged by her growing arousal and yearning for his lips, his unique taste.  “Y-you can touch them if you want.”

Cullen studied her as her cheeks blushed and burned intensely.  She leaned forward, lifting her tunic enough to expose bare skin along her hips.  The man watched her expression as his hand slowly ran up from her hips to her side.  Evie breathed deeply as his callused hand touched her anticipating bare skin.  He hesitated for a moment until he knew that she was okay.  A small positive whine and her arching back told him to continue.  He slowly ventured up her side to the small of her back.  Evie shuddered, feeling a wave of lust rise from within her. 

His rough thumb reached the first scars.  The touch was explosive and vibrated all over her body.  It did not hurt, just contained an electrical shock she never experienced her whole life.  His palm traveled upward, encouraging a moan from deep inside her chest.  Evie’s lips searched for his as her bright green eyes closed.  Once they married, she slipped her tongue in his mouth, twisting with his like a fine waltz.  She kept pressing herself against him more and more, mentally damning his stiff metal breastplate. Cullen was too far away from her searching hands and yearning body.

His lips wandered from her mouth to her jaw, while his hand journeyed up her spine.  Every so often, the tender scars sent shockwaves up Evie’s back and down to her groin.  Moans and sighs continually escaped her lips each wave sensation thundered through her body.  His lips gently caressed her neck to where the untied tunic hung loosely off her bare shoulder.  In that moment as Evie tensed against him again, his discovering hand slipped forward from her back towards her anticipating unbound breast.

Curses continued to run through Evie’s mind.  She wanted to explore him, yet his body was shielded behind his coat, armor, leather doublet and probably a tunic.  Before Cullen’s hand touched her left bare breast, she pulled back.  Cullen dropped his hand, looking like he did something wrong.  Evie shook her head frankly, panting.  She yearned for his lips and hands to continue their exploration.  “I hate your armor.”  She barely got the sentence out, gripping the breastplate’s edges with both hands.  “I feel like you are five hundred leagues away.”

Cullen smirked.  “That might be for the best though.  I will not deny I have thought about touching you like this…well, longer than I should admit.  I respect you, Eve, and do not want to push the bounds we just set.  I want you to have full control.  I personally relieved that we will be slow.  We both have many traumatic scars, most hidden from view.”

Evie beamed, but quickly shifted to pouting.  “You are a true gentlemen, but I hope you press those bounds too.”

“Alright.”  Cullen leered, running his hand through her hair.  “Did you know you hair is damp?”

Evie bit her lower lip.   “I might have been…bathing when I finally gained the courage to confess to you…I barely got dressed to come over here.”

“Maker’s breath, woman.”  Cullen chuckled, shaking his head.  He rested his hands on either side of her against the wooden desk.  His cheeks and ears deepened in color as his amber eyes flicked a few time like they were telling his personal thoughts.  “You’re a minx...”

Evie shrugged.  “Eh.”  Both people started giggling, touching foreheads.  “Can I sleep here tonight…?  I don’t think I can leave you right now…”

A brief hint of anxiety passed across Cullen’s amber eyes, but it was pushed away before Evie could say anything.  The man nodded, gently smiling.  “Okay.  Let me finish up a few things, and I will meet you.  No more exploring tonight though.  Nice and slow, remember?”

Evie frowned.  “I’m already regretting that boundary...”  She hopped down from the desk once he moved for her to pass.  Her hips swayed towards the ladder as Evie glanced over her shoulder.  She knew he was staring at her behind.  He did when she waltzed out of the armory before, but unlike this time kept staring once she caught him.  “You want me to handle the torches?”

Cullen nodded, reaching for a wet cloth to wipe off the ink from his fingertips.  “Sure.”

Evie snapped her fingers.  The wall torches went out magically, smoke rose from the soft embers.  Only the single lit candle on his desk remained, providing enough light for him to finish his business before following her.  She smiled in the dim light at him, mentally thanking the Maker for giving her a chance to feel loved and to give love to someone broken like her. 

With each step up the ladder, Evie looked forward to the new day when the sun rose over the mountains.  Three months ago, she was cold and slowly bleeding to death in a snowstorm, wondering if she would ever see Cullen again.  Now, as she sat down on his bed and took off her boots, she would sleep soundly beside him, knowing he cared for her as she did for him.  It was new and daunting, but nothing like facing an ancient magister and his pet archdemon that destroyed a village.  If Cullen stood beside her, she felt she could handle leading the Inquisition and fight the looming darkness.

Evie’s head laid down on the same pillow she used all those months ago when she passed out playing chess.  Cullen’s dilapidated loft became her sanctuary when she was dying of infections and the envy demon tried to take her face.  Even those damn holes in the wall and roof brought her peace.  Her eyelids grew heavy staring at the twinkling stars above.  Her mind and heart wanted to wait for the man below to join her, but her body assumed control.  Within a few moments, Evie was fast asleep, smiling ear-to-ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY!!! Are you all doing cartwheels like I am!? I hope this was to your satisfaction! If you have any recommendations or agree that having them together now is the best thing in the world, leave a comment, kudos, or whatnot! AHHHH!!! Such a long road to this moment, and only more awaits our romantic duo.
> 
> As I have stated, I am still writing the next part, but might start releasing chapters in the next two weeks or so. To keep informed, subscribe and get alerts! When Part 3 pops up, I will add an extra chapter to this to direct you towards the new content. I don't want to lose anyone in the transition. I changed the rating on the first two parts to mature because Part 3 will be filled with awesome Evie and Cullen goodness. *wicked grin*
> 
> In the meantime, I might release the first chapters of my alternate history set in modern day Thedas that includes some characters you have only heard about in the main story and some who have yet to make an appearance. I am not happy with this novella and keep changing things, so it will not be as smooth and twisted as "The Fire In Your Eyes." I really wanted to do an alternate history that questions what would happen if Evie had not been left alone... Subscribe and keep an eye out. I will only update it periodically since I would rather spend my writing time focused on the main story, but it is a nice side project when I just want to write fluff, giddy banter, and smut. ;)
> 
> Heart to everyone who reads my writings! You are the greatest!


	26. Walking Among Demons

Hey Everyone!

Just as I promised, Part 3 of  _The Fire In Your Eyes_ series posted today called [Walking Among Demons](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13348014/chapters/30560535).  I am  _still_ writing this section, so only one chapter will post per week on Fridays.  Once I finish writing this mammoth, I might go back to my typical two chapters a week.  OR I might post a chapter to my AU-Modern novellas on Mondays and post _FIYE_ only on Fridays.  Thoughts?  For updates and post, check out my [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/thejeeperswife) and subscribe!

Note:  Chapter 1 picks up the morning after Chapter 25 here.  So, you can re-read Capter 25 and then jump over, but it primarily stands alone.  (Although, Chapter 25 is their first kiss, so...)

Missed you all!  I hope you enjoy!

~thejeeperswife

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy what your reading? Please answer this [survey](https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/NZK9RQC) so I know what you want more of and want posted more often!


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